Susan Meier Ezine

It's been a wild ride...

2011-11-29T05:03:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers...

My husband and I didn't have a clue what we were getting ourselves into when we decided to remodel our kitchen ourselves.

While workmen hammered away on our siding, new roof, new doors...shutters...that kind of thing (consuming big bucks) we decided that with the help of our son (who had already remodeled 2 kitchens) we could redo our kitchen. We didn't have the cash to have it done professionally, as our outside was being done. But we did have enough to do it ourselves.

Everything, technically, has gone fairly smoothly. What we didn't count on was the amount of "time" it takes to do everything...did you know ceramic tile has 3 drying times built into the installation?...and that being without a kitchen for over a month, with everything from the kitchen crammed into the dining room would drive us insane...LOL!!!!

But there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Now that we've stained our cabinets 3 times to get the color I wanted, we may be close to the last step...putting the shiny finishing coat on. Then it's doors, knobs on the cabinets, trim...that kind of stuff and we should be done...well, before Christmas. LOL

Thanksgiving had been our goal, but we realized that was a bit optimistic.

So here I am. I've written a book in the chaos and 2 proposals. I've written lots of how-to-write blogs. But the ezine just fell to the wayside. Hopefully, I've kept the writers among us on your toes with the Monday morning Susan's Blog posts.

Anyway, this month we have the last session in THE POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop. I'm trying to figure out which of my workshops should appear in the newsletter next. But haven't made up my mind yet. It will be a surprise. I'll take a small break and probably get back to these ezines around March or April.

This month (November 29...) is the release of my next book KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST. Before it was even released it got a nomination for REVIEWER'S CHOICE AWARD from Romantic Times Magazine and a 4-1/2 RT Top Pick rating.

Not bad for a book that isn't even out yet!

This book holds a special place in my heart because I got to write about a kid who wasn't quite nice. Instead of a syrupy sweet child who deserved to be loved, Finley was a handful. But that's what made her so dear to the heroine. Unable to have kids of her own, the heroine wants to adopt but she has very little experience with kids. When Finley comes on the scene, she quickly realizes if she could handle Finley, she could handle any kid!

But Finley comes with a handsome, sexy dad who also needs to be loved. As Shannon's trying to sell Rory Wallace her family's department store and caring for his daughter as practice for her own kids, she finds herself wishing her life could be different. That she could give Rory more kids. That they could have a happily ever after.

This book will make you laugh out loud, even as you're holding back tears.

If you're looking for something just a little different than your average romance, something that will fill you with Christmas spirit and fill your heart with love (and maybe even appreciation for the good things you have) KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST is the book to read!

So read the final lesson in THE POWER OF QUESTIONS and take a peek at next year's schedule in COMING ATTRACTIONS which is really shaping up to be tons of fun.

And COMMENT below to be entered in a drawing for a copy of KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST! Juanita Ervin is the winner of September's book. Congrats, Juanita!

This month I'm also doing a contest at Fresh Fiction. Post a seasons greeting in the Thanksgiving Blog comments section and be entered to win A $25 GIFT CARD FROM AMAZON!

There's a cat tail.

If you're looking for some "short" reading, there are 3 Christmas stories on my webside, including THE GIRL NEXTDOOR, which is the story of a returning Vet who has always loved the girl who lived next door to his parents, who finally finds the courage to ask her out.

Smooth sailing? Not exactly. But Shannon Raleigh, the heroine from KISSES ON HER CHIRSTMAS LIST might just give one of them the advice he or she needs to make their Christmas merry!

Go to look for the little gift boxes on the left. You click those to go right to the story.

Finally, at the bottom of the ezine is an excerpt from KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST!

So enjoy. And happy holidays. I'm sure I'll "see" you on Susan's Blog this month. Leave a comment! Even if it's only to say Merry Christmas to me and all the people who read my writer's blog every Monday morning! And leave a comment in the Thanksgiving Blog to be entered to win a $25 gift card from Amazon!

susan

FOR THE WRITERS AMONG US

The Power of Questions

Lesson 8: Just Plain Questions

Why is she doing that?
Would she really do that?
Who cares that she’s doing that?

Those are some of the broad and general questions you should be asking yourself all the time as you write your book.

As you’re writing, you should be looking at your work, asking things like…is that the best way to say that? Could this scene be more dramatic from another point of view? Who has the most to lose in this scene? Or who is changed the most by what happens in the scene?

Who cares that this is happening?

In fact, I have a great “who cares” story that will make you laugh. Several years ago (decades, actually) a friend asked me to read over her first few chapters. She was getting ready to submit the chapters as a proposal and knew something was off but wasn’t sure what.

She snail mailed the chapters to me (I told you it was decades ago!) and I read them. Beside nearly every paragraph, I wrote, “Who cares?” … as in who is affected by this? Who cares that this is happening?

I sent her the pages and didn’t hear from her again for months. Then one day we ran into each other at a conference and she was blistering mad. She said, I’d poured my blood, sweat and tears into that piece and all you could write was who cares, as if it was the most boring piece in the world.

I said, “No! I wasn’t bored. I just wanted you to figure out who cared about what was happening in that scene or paragraph!”

Now that’s a misunderstanding! LOL

The ‘who cares’ question is a great one. Even if your scene fits the action, reaction and decision model…if no one really cares what’s happening in the scene, then why is it happening? (Maybe it should just be a sentence or a paragraph, not a scene.)

I got the technique of asking lots and lots of questions about my characters, my scenes, my story from Tony Robbins, author of 30 Days to Personal Power and Awaken the Giant Within.

He says, “Asking questions is the best method of analysis.”

The trick is (as in our list of 20) finding the right question or questions so that you keep your story (and your writing) on track.

I have a lot of questions I ask.

What is the purpose of this scene is a great question. It comes in handy in those times when your action, reaction and decision train stops. The easiest way to restart it is by asking…What is the purpose of the next scene? Or what should it be? In my workshop JOURNEY STEPS I talk about ways to jumpstart your story when the action, reaction, decision train stops. Asking yourself: What is the purpose of the next scene…Or what should happen next? Or what could happen next? Is a great way to get yourself rolling again.

There are different kinds of questions for various facets of writing. If you’re reviewing or editing a completed manuscript, and you come upon a scene for which there is no answer when you ask the question, “what is the purpose of this scene,” then maybe you need to take that scene out. (And maybe that’s why your book drags?)

Also when editing, you can ask yourself:

Can this scene be shorter?
Did I make the most of my scene time?
Have I maximized the dramatic potential for every scene so that the book is the most dramatic it can be?
Could this be funnier? (If it’s supposed to be funny – no need to make every book funny!)
If you’re writing suspense…Is this scene really suspenseful?
Have I used the best WORDS to describe my characters? (Because remember, your characters are only as good as the words you use to describe them, the words YOU put in their mouths, and the words you use as reaction phrases!)

When you’re reading a synopsis, here are some great questions:

Does this make sense?
Is everyone properly motivated?
Do I like this heroine? Would I want to be her for 400 (or however many) pages?
Do I like this hero? Would I fall in love with him? (Or want to be him for 400 pages, depending upon what kind of book you’re writing!)
Does the conflict honestly, genuinely stem from the two characters and their pasts? Or is it convoluted? (Ouch…yeah, that one hurts, but you have to answer it.)
Does the drama escalate?
Do the characters grow? (The purpose of a novel is for the main characters to grow from who they are when the book opens and their terrible trouble starts to who they need to be to solve their problem or handle their trouble. So the journey they take is typically a journey of growth…if they don’t grow, you’re in trouble…or maybe your novel is!)

When drafting…

What is the purpose of this scene (or the next scene)?
What should happen next?
What’s the worst thing that could happen to this character? (Within the context of the story. Nuclear holocaust is the worst that can happen. Period. Well, except for asteroid hit. But if it doesn’t fit your story, it’s not a good answer to the question!)
How can I have the protagonist continue to be somebody readers would want to “be” for 400 pages?
Do I need to do something to make him/her more sympathetic/likeable? (If you need your heroine (or your hero) to be unsympathetic for awhile, then you may want to occasionally ask…How long can I let my main character be unsympathetic before I lose reader sympathy and empathy?)
Is this story flowing?
Do I really need this scene?
Can I combine scenes?
Are my secondary characters necessary?
Can one or two secondary characters do the work of the six or eight I’ve used?
Are my secondary characters crisp and clear, interesting?
Are they the right characters for the job?
Have I accidentally combined too many characters?
Have I accidentally combined too many scenes? (These are “check yourself” questions. Sometimes I get combination happy! That’s not always a good thing! Sometimes it’s good to remember your book is supposed to be entertaining, not just tight!)
How can I make my black moment really black?
What’s a great way to end this book?
How can I tie up all loose ends?

Seriously, I could go on forever with questions. They are the backbone of analysis. And consistent analysis, as you write, as you edit, as you create the story through a synopsis, is the best way to make sure you are not only on track, but that you are coming up with a great story. Not just an okay story.

We’ve come to the end of the workshop, and really we’ve only scratched the surface of the kinds of types of questions involved in storytelling.

Different books require different questions. Armed with the knowledge that asking the right questions and using questions to guide yourself and your readers is your real power, you should be able to come up with a few really good questions of your own to keep your novels on track.

Until you get your own questions, though, use mine!

Keep your genre’s core story question in mind to make your book stronger and a tight fit for your market.

Guide your readers with reader questions that pop into their heads as they read.

Use action, reaction, decision to keep your story rolling right along.

Use the list of 20 to come up with ideas that are fresh and unique…and to solve your own story problems. And constantly challenge yourself to make your writing and your story the strongest it can be.

Thanks for sharing these lessons with me. It's been fun to read through these lessons and do the exercises myself. I hope you enjoyed it.

susan meier

COMING ATTRACTIONS

I hate to sound like a lazy bum...but I have nothing but a few blogs for eHarlequin coming up for the rest of the year. Truthfully, I have an entire book to write before December 31 and another one immediately after that...so I'm not really lazy. :)

Still, the next real coming attractions begin in 2012. If you're a writer...check my Monday morning blog. Lately I've been talking writing there.

So...What am I doing in 2012?

March 2012 CAN THIS MANUSCRIPT BE SAVED New Zealand chapter online. (I'm not going to NZ :( but it's the next best thing.)

April 2012 I will be doing my workshop LET CONFLICT TELL YOUR STORY FOR YOU [online again] for the STAR chapter. Go to...
http://starrwa.org/on-line-workshops/ (Sorry I can't do a link.)

April 19...JOHNSTOWNERS and surrounding areas...I will be at the Coal Miner's Cafe talking about how the publishing industry has changed and is changing!

April 27-28 I will be at the Spring Fling in Chicago [Yes! Chicago! I'm actually leaving me chair] doing CAN THIS MANUSCRIPT BE SAVED live.

In May 2012 I will be doing an online workshop for Savvy Authors CONFLICT AND THE CATEGORY ROMANCE.

Jun 11 to July 8th, I will be doing JOURNEY STEPS online for Savvy Authors.

October, SELF EDITING online for the multi-genre group PENNWRITERS.

My son is getting married next year, so I may cut it off at this! LOL

We'll see!

And let's not forget! November 29 is the realease date for KISSES ON HER CHIRSTMAS LIST. I hate to say things like this, but I LOVED this one! It was fun to write. The characters were amazing. Finley (the hero's daughter) was an absolute hoot.

So you might not want to miss this one!

Cat Tails

Social Fluffy and Warrior Sophia went through a sort of outdoors withdrawal this summer. Because we (finally) got CENTRAL AIR (yes, that deserves all caps) we don't leave any doors open. When they wanted to go out, they had to stand by a door and meow and after a while I think it wasn't worth their time or trouble.

So Sophie hasn't lost her winter weight from last year, which might mean we'll have a little bean bag cat next March. And Fluffy, well, Fluff is Fluff. I think he would have preferred to spend more time outside, but Sarah got new boots and they came with a box...so he's found his summer retreat! LOL

Excerpt

From KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST

Chapter 1

Shannon Raleigh turned to get a look at herself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom of her executive office suite and gaped in horror. The tall black boots and short red velvet dress she wore exposed most of her legs and the white fur trimmed “U” at the bodice revealed a sizeable strip of cleavage.

“I can’t go into a roomful of kids dressed like this!”

Even from behind the closed door, she could hear her assistant Wendy sigh heavily. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Because I know you’ll say I look fine, when I don’t. I can’t usher kids to Santa’s lap in a skirt so short I can’t bend over.”

“So don’t bend over.” Another sigh. “Look, Shannon, it doesn’t matter that you’re eight inches taller than Carlie. There’s nobody else who’s even remotely thin enough to fit into that suit. Carlie’s car is stuck in a snow drift. If you don’t play Santa’s helper there’ll be no one to–“

The ring of the phone stopped Wendy mid-sentence. The next thing Shannon heard was Wendy’s happy voice saying, “Raleigh’s Department Store. Shannon Raleigh’s assistant, Wendy, speaking.”

In the lull while Wendy obviously listened to the caller, Shannon cast another critical eye over her reflection. The little red dress was kind of cute. The color complimented her long black hair and made her blue eyes seem bluer. If she were wearing it anywhere else, she’d actually think she looked pretty.

A long-forgotten ache filled her. It was the first time in a year she felt pretty, sexy. But sexy wasn’t exactly the way a grown woman should dress in a room filled with babies, toddlers and elementary school kids.

The ache was quickly replaced by fear – which was the real reason she didn’t want to play Santa’s helper. How could she spend four hours in a room full of adorable children? She wanted a baby so badly it hurt, but she couldn’t have kids. And seeing all those sweet faces, hearing their cute little lists, would crush her.

“Um, Shannon?”

“I’m not coming out.”

“Fine. That was Tammy in the Shoe Department. No one’s come into the store for the past hour. Because she could tell the storm was getting worse, she checked the forecast on the Internet. They have no clue how much snow we’re going to get, but they aren’t shy about suggesting we might get another foot.”

“Another foot!”

Shannon raced out of her bathroom and pulled back the curtain behind her huge mahogany desk. Thick fluffy snowflakes cascaded from the sky, coating the tinsel and silver bells on the streetlamps of Main Street, Green Hill, Pennsylvania. It blanketed the Christmas lights that outlined shop doorways, and sat on the roof of the park’s gazebo like a tall white hat.

“Holy cow!”

Her gaze on the little red Santa’s help outfit, Wendy also said, “Holy cow.”

“Don’t make fun. We have a serious problem here.” Or maybe a way out. She turned from the window. “I think it’s time to admit that the storm is keeping shoppers away.”

“And most of the staff is scared silly about driving home. The longer we stay, the worse the roads get.”

“Okay, announce that the store is closing in fifteen and tell the employees they can go home. I’ll call the radio stations so they can add us to their list of closings. Then I’ll lock up.”

“Okay.”

As the announcement went out over the loudspeaker, Shannon called all the local radio stations and advised them to let listeners know Raleigh’s would be closed for the night.

Just as she hung up the phone from the final call, Wendy peeked in. “Okay. Fifteen minutes are up. Store’s empty.”

“Great. Thanks. Be careful going home.”

“My boyfriend’s coming to pick me up in his truck. I’ll be fine.”

Shannon smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

“If we can make it.”

“We better hope we can make it. The weekend before Christmas is our busiest time.”

Wendy shrugged. “If shoppers don’t get here tomorrow, they’ll just come on Sunday or Monday or Tuesday or whatever. Nobody’s going to go without gifts this Christmas. I’d say your profits are safe.”

Shannon laughed. Wendy waved and headed off. With a few clicks on her keyboard, she activated the building locks and the alarm system. Reaching for her coat, she peered down at her little Santa’s helper outfit. She should change, but knowing the roads were getting worse with every passing minute, she simply yanked her long white wool coat from the closet and ran out.

At the end of the hall, she pushed on the swinging door that led from executive row to Housewares. Striding to the elevator, she passed shelves and tables bulging with merchandise, all under loops of tinsel and oversized ornaments hanging from the low ceiling. On the first floor, she hurried past the Candy Department, to the back door and the employee parking lot. Putting her SUV into four-wheel drive, she edged onto the street and slowly wound along the twisty road that took her out into the country, to her home five miles outside the small city.

As she stepped out into the eighteen inches of snow in her driveway, a sense of disconnect shivered through her. Though it had been a year, it felt like only yesterday that she was married and living in sunny, happy Charleston, South Carolina – where people didn’t often see snow, let alone need winter coats and boots. Then she’d been diagnosed with stage-four endometriosis and forced to have a hysterectomy, her husband had unceremoniously divorced her and she’d returned home to the comforting arms of her parents.

But just when she’d gotten adjusted to being back in town and working at the store, her parents had retired and moved to Florida. Worse, they wanted her to sell the store to fund their retirement.

Once again, she was alone – and soon she’d be unemployed.

She trudged up the back steps to the kitchen door, scolding herself for being so negative. She knew what was wrong. The near-miss with playing Santa’s helper had rattled her. Four hours of ushering kids to Santa’s throne and listening to their sweet voices as they gave their Christmas lists to the jolly old elf would have been her undoing – a bittersweet reminder her that she’d never bring a child into this world.

Inside the cold yellow kitchen, she’d just barely unwound the scarf from her neck when the doorbell rang. Confused, she walked up the hall, dodging the boxes of Christmas decorations she’d brought from the attic the night before. She flipped on the porch light and yanked open the door.

A snow-covered state policeman took off his hat. “Evening, ma’am. I’m Trooper Potter.”

She blinked. What the devil would the police want with her? “Good evening.”

Then Trooper Potter shifted a bit to his left and she saw Rory Wallace. All six-foot-one, no-more-than-a-hundred-and-eighty-five-gorgeous pounds of him. His black hair and topcoat were sprinkled with snow. His dark eyes were wary, apologetic.

“Rory?”

“Good evening, Shannon.”

The policeman angled his thumb behind him. “I see you know Mr. Wallace.”

“Yes. I do.” How could she forget a dark-haired, dark-eyed sex god? While he dated her roommate Natalie their first year at university, Shannon had had a secret crush on him. With his high cheekbones, well defined chin, broad shoulders and flat abs, he had the kind of looks that made women swoon and Shannon wasn’t blind.

“Mr. Wallace was stranded on the Interstate. The hotels filled up quickly with travelers and now his only options are a cot in the high school gym or finding someone to take him in. He tells me that he’s in Pennsylvania because he has business with you on Monday and --”

“I came a few days early to get a look at the store on my own,” Rory interrupted, stepping forward. “But I ran into the storm. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind me staying the night. Normally, I wouldn’t ask such a big favor, but as you can see I’m desperate.”

Mind? She almost laughed. She would bet that fifty percent of the women he met fantasized about being stuck in storm with him.

She opened the door a little wider. Not only would having him stay the night get her out of the doldrums about her life, but this had all the makings of a perfect fantasy. Cold night. Gorgeous guy. And wine. She had tons of wine.

“Daddy, I’m cold.”

Her fantasy came to an abrupt halt as she glanced down and saw a little girl standing beside Rory. She wore a pink ski jacket and carried a matching pink backpack. Little strands of yellow hair peeked from beneath her hood.

Her heart pinched with fear. Her breathing stuttered out. Did Fate think it was funny to let her dodge playing Santa’s helper only to drop an adorable child on her doorstep?

“You can see why I don’t want to stay in a shelter.”
Fear and yearning collided as she glanced down at the sweet little girl with big blue eyes and fine yellow hair. As much as she knew spending time with this child would intensify her longing for her own, she couldn’t leave Rory and his daughter out in the cold or ship them to a crowded gym with hundreds of other noisy travelers and a tiny cot.

She also couldn’t be a Scrooge or grumpy Gus. Her problem wasn’t their problem. She would be a good hostess.

She stepped back so they could enter. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Carrying a duffle bag and brief case as he squeezed into the foyer, Rory brushed against her, setting off a firestorm of sensations inside her. She ignored them. Not just because a man with a child was mostly likely married, but because she probably wouldn’t have made a pass at him even if he’d been alone. In the year since her divorce, she hadn’t been able to relate to men as anything other than employees. After her husband’s anger over her inability to have kids and the way he’d dropped her like a hot potato – no consideration for their five-year marriage, no consideration for her devastation – the fear of another man rejecting her paralyzed her.

Plus, come Monday, they’d be doing business. His family owned a holding company for various types of stores and Raleigh’s would probably fit their collection. That’s why she’d thought of Natalie’s old boyfriend when her parents decided they wanted her to sell the store. It could be a quick, painless sale. She didn’t want to jeopardize that.

But, wow. It had been fun to fantasize about being stranded with him, fun for the ten seconds before reality intruded, reminding her she wasn’t normal.

As Rory dropped his duffle bag, she said, “It’s a terrible storm.”

“Worst in ten years,” the trooper agreed, staying behind on the porch. “If you’re all settled, I need to get back on the road.”

“We’re fine,” Shannon said, as she began to close the door. As an afterthought, she added, “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Rory Wallace called out too.

Already on his way down her front steps, the trooper waved goodbye and trudged through the thick snow on the sidewalk to his car.

Awkward silence reined as Rory Wallace took in the foyer of Shannon Raleigh’s home. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been forced to humble himself and ask shelter from a business associate, it appeared she was moving. Boxes blocked half the corridor that led from the foyer to the kitchen behind it. They littered the living room to the right and the dining room to the left.

Which made him feel even guiltier for being forced to ask for shelter. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

She smiled graciously. “You’re welcome.” Then she shivered, even though she wore a long white coat and the house wasn’t that cold, just chilled, as if the heat had been on low all day while she was at work. “Give me a minute to turn on the furnace.” She walked to a thermostat on the wall and adjusted it. “You might want to keep your coats on until it heats up in here.”

He unbuttoned his topcoat. “Actually, after spending ten hours in a car, your house is warm to us.” He stooped to help his daughter with her jacket. Realizing he’d never introduced her, he peeked up at Shannon. “This is my daughter, Finley.”

Crouching beside them, Shannon said, “It’s nice to meet you, Finley.”

Finley mumbled, “Nice to meet you too,” then she looked at him as if wanting to make sure he’d noticed that she’d been polite.

Sliding her arms out of her little pink jacket, he gave her a subtle nod of approval. Lately, she’d been something of a six-year-old diva. Disciplining her worked, but not always. And some days he was at his wits end with her. So he was lucky she’d been polite to Shannon Raleigh. He didn’t know how he’d deal with her if she insulted the woman who’d rescued them.

“This is the perfect night to be stranded with me,” Shannon said, taking Finley’s jacket to the closet behind her. “My parents will be home from Florida next Saturday and I promised I’d have the house decorated for Christmas. All these boxes are decorations they left behind when they moved to Florida. You can help me.”

While Rory breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t interrupted her moving, Finley’s nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed with distaste. Before he realized what she was about to do, she spat, “I hate Christmas.”

Shannon reared back as if someone had slapped her. Her pretty blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Hate Christmas? How can you hate Christmas?”

“How can you believe that a fat guy in a red suit brings you presents?”

Anger pulsed through Rory’s veins and he shot Finley a warning look. He wouldn’t yell at her in front of Shannon, but he did need to provide a few rules for behavior when imposing on someone they barely knew. He faced Shannon. “Why don’t you tell me where we’re sleeping and I’ll take Finley to our room and help her get settled in.”

Shannon winced. “Actually, there’s only one bedroom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s no big deal. We’ll give the bed to Finley, and you and I will use sleeping bags. You can put yours on the floor beside the bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Mortal embarrassment overwhelmed him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d be putting her out when he gave her name to the state policeman. “This is such an imposition. You can’t give us your room. Finley and I don’t mind sleeping in the living room.”

Finley stomped her foot. “I don’t want to sleep on the floor.”

He flashed Finley another warning look. “You won’t. You can have the sofa.”

“I want a bed!”

Rory’s head pounded. He understood that this time of year wasn’t easy for Finley. Her mom had left on Christmas day two years before. So every year, she got moody, and every year he indulged her by taking her on vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years. For a guy who’d also lost his marriage on Christmas Day, a vacation from the holiday was good for him too. But the foot-stomping and the pouting and the demands that everything go her way, those had just started. And he absolutely refused to get on board with them. He had to spend the next week looking at Raleigh’s Department Store for his family’s holding company. He couldn’t have her acting like a brat all week.

He turned to Shannon. “Would you mind showing us to the bedroom so I can get Finley settled?”

“Not at all.”

She led them into a small first floor bedroom that was as neat and clean as the rest of the house – minus boxes. A feminine white ruffled spread sat on a simple double bed. Red pillows on the bed matched the red shag carpet beneath it and the drapes on the double windows.

He dropped his duffle bag to the floor. “Wow.”

She faced him with a smile. Her shiny black hair was a wonderland of long, springy curls. In the years since university, her face had shifted just slightly and she’d become a softer, prettier version of the young girl he remembered.

“Wow?”

“I’m just a little surprised by your room.”

Her smile grew. “Really? Why?”

“The red.” He felt the same color rising on his cheeks. The room was girlie, yet incredibly sexy. But he certainly didn’t feel comfortable saying that to the woman giving him and his daughter shelter, especially not after Finley’s mini-tantrum. Still, he never would have guessed this sexy combination of color and style from the sweet Shannon he knew all those years ago at school.

“There’s a private bathroom for the bedroom.” She gestured toward a door to the right. “Over there.”

“Thank you.”

“Just come out when you’re ready.” She smiled. “I’ll start supper. I hope you like toasted cheese sandwiches and soup. I’m not much of a cook.”

“On a cold day like this, soup is terrific.”

She closed the door behind her and Rory crouched down in front of Finley. Smoothing his hand down her shiny yellow hair, he said, “You’re killing me.”

She blinked innocently “What?”

“Ms. Raleigh is doing us a favor by letting us stay. We should be polite to her.”

“I was polite.”

“Saying you want the bed while you stomp your foot is not polite.”

Her bottom lip puffed out. “Sorry.”

And this was why he had trouble disciplining her. The second he pointed out something she did wrong, she turned on that little girl charm. Batted her long black lashes over her pretty blue eyes.

Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, he rose. “I’ll tell you what. You stay in here for a few minutes, while I spend some time getting acquainted with our hostess.” And apologizing and doing damage control. “While I’m gone, you can get your pajamas and tooth brush out of your backpack and think about how you’d want a little girl to behave if she were a guest in our house.”

Apparently liking her assignment, she nodded eagerly.

“And don’t spend all your time thinking about how you’d spoil your little guest, because you wouldn’t. If you had to give up your bed for a stranger, you’d want her to be nice to you.”

Finley nodded again and said, “Okay. I get it.”

Rory was absolutely positive she didn’t, but he had to make amends to Shannon. He left Finley in the bedroom and walked up the hall to the kitchen.
The house was small, but comfortable. The furniture was new and expensive, an indication that Raleigh’s Department Store did, indeed, make lots of money. So maybe the trip to Pennsylvania might not have been the mistake he’d thought while sitting in his car for ten hours, not moving, on the Interstate?

He found Shannon in the kitchen. Still wearing her coat, she drew bread from a drawer and cheese from the refrigerator.

“Thanks again for taking us in.”

“No problem.” She set the bread and cheese on the center island of the sunny yellow kitchen with light oak cabinets and pale brown granite countertops. She reached for the top button of her coat. “Furnace has kicked in,” she said with a laugh, popping the first button and the second, but when she reached the third, she paused. “I think I’ll just take this out to the hall closet.”

She walked past him, to the swinging door. Wanting something to do, he followed her. Just as he said, “Is there anything I can do to help with supper?” her coat fell off her shoulders, revealing a bright red dress.

But when she turned in surprise, he saw the dress wasn’t really a dress but some little red velvet thing that dipped low at the bodice, revealing an enticing band of cleavage. Tall black boots showcased her great legs.

She was dressed like Mrs. Santa – if Mrs. Santa were a young incredibly endowed woman who liked short skirts.

His dormant hormones woke as if from a long winter’s nap, and he took a step back. These little bursts of attraction he was having to her were all wrong. He had an unruly daughter who took priority over everything in his life, including his hormones, and he was a guest in Shannon’s house. Plus, tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, they’d go into her department store as adversaries of a sort. She’d be trying to sell her family business to him and he’d be looking for reasons not to buy. He couldn’t be attracted to her.

He swallowed back the whole filing cabinet of flirtatious remarks that wanted to come out. “That’s an interesting choice of work clothes.”

She laughed nervously. “I was going to fill in for our Santa’s helper in the Toy Department.”

Ah. Not Mrs. Santa but Santa’s helper.

“Well, the dress is very …” He paused. He knew the dress was probably supposed to be Christmassy and cute. And on a shorter woman it probably was. But she was tall, sleek, yet somehow still womanly. He didn’t dare tell her that. “… festive.”

She brought the coat to her neck, using it to shield herself. “That’s the look we’re after. Festive and happy. And it actually works for the girl who fits into this costume. I was lucky Mother Nature saved me and I didn’t have to fill in for her tonight.”

Recognizing her acute nervousness, Rory pulled his gaze away from her long, slim legs. He cleared his throat. “I … um… just followed you to see if I could help you with anything.”

She motioned toward his black suit and white shirt. “Are you sure you want to butter bread or stir tomato soup in a suit?”

He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves.

And Shannon’s mouth watered. Damn it. She’d already figured out she couldn’t be fantasizing about him. Sure, his shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. And she’d always been a sucker for a man in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves looking like he was ready to get down to business. But as far as she could tell, he was married. That shut down the possibility of any relationship right then and there. Plus, she wanted him to buy her parents’ store. She couldn’t be drooling on him.

She hung up her coat, then scurried past him, into the kitchen and directly to the laundry room. Leaning on the closed door, she drew in a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. But he was also married.

Married. Married. Married.

She forced the litany through her head, hoping it would sink in, as she grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dryer and changed into them.

When she returned to the kitchen he stood at the center island, buttering bread. “While we have a few seconds of privacy, I also wanted to apologize for Finley. I brought her because she’s on Christmas break from school and I hate to leave her with her nanny for an entire week. But I know she can be a handful.”

Walking over to join him, she said, “She’s just a little girl.”

“True, but she’s also recently entered a new phase of some sort where she stomps her foot when she doesn’t get her own way.”

Standing so close to him, she could smell his aftershave. Her breathing stuttered in and out of her lungs. So she laughed, trying to cover it. “A new phase, huh?”

“She’s was perfectly fine in pre-school and kindergarten, but first grade is turning her into a Diva.”

“Diva?”

“Yeah.” Smiling, he caught her gaze, and every nerve ending in her body lit up like the lights on the Christmas tree in central park. Spinning away from him, she repeated the litany in her head again.

Married. Married. Married!

“You know, I can easily handle this myself. You can use the den for privacy if you need to call your wife.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”

She set the frying pan for the sandwiches on the stove and faced him again. “I’m sure she’s worried.”

“And I’m sure she and her new husband aren’t even thinking about me and Finley right now.”

“Oh.” Nerves rolled through her. He was divorced? Not married?

Their gazes caught. Attraction spun through her like snowflakes dancing in the light of a streetlamp. She reminded herself that they were about to do business, but it didn’t work to snuff out the snap and crackle of electricity arching between them.

She pivoted away from him. Pretending she needed all her concentration to open two cans of soup, she managed to avoid conversation. But that didn’t stop the chatter in her brain. As difficult as it might be to have a little girl around, she was abundantly glad Finley was with him. She might have had that quick fantasy of being stranded with him, but now that sanity had returned, she knew the sale of the store had to take precedence over a night of … she swallowed…passion? Good God, she hadn’t even thought the word in a year, let alone experienced it. She’d probably dissolve into a puddle if he made a pass at her.

* * *

That's it for this month. Remember to go to http://susanmeier.com to read the short stories and remember http://susanmeier.blogspot.com for Monday Morning writer blogs.

For Those of You Waiting for the Next Ezine

2011-11-04T09:43:00.000-07:00

I'll apologize for being behind.

We are currently remodeling our kitchen and redoing the outside of our house. Were we insane to have both done at the same time...Yes! Especially since I hvae two books due before March 1.

But that's why I'm behind.

The next ezine will be out in a few weeks...End of November...it will have the last lesson in the Power of Questions workshop and a few hints about where I'll be next year and what online classes I'll be teaching.

Sorry again!

Sometimes life gets in the way.

If you cannot post a comment because of Blogger...

2011-08-30T08:49:00.001-07:00

and you would like to be in the contest, please email me through the contact susan button!

September 2011

2011-08-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

Ah. Summer's over. Sniff. Sniff. No more breakfasts on Wednesday morning. No more swimming pool. Though we can still golf!

My writing is humming right along. One book in the MONGTOMERY MOGULS duet down. One to go. And then onto the continuity before I finish up my contract with an unknown book! I'm guessing it might be a standalone.

This month we're getting back into the POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop. There's a Cat Tail and a reminder of the Prepping for Nano Workshop. But rather than post the last of the Andreas short stories, we're slipping into a Christmas theme. Why? Who knows. LOL. With fall approaching, I'm suddenly in a Christmas mood. So along with an excerpt from one of the two Christmas stories on my website, I'll be posting an excerpt from HER BABIES FIRST CHRISTMAS.

This is one of my favorite stories for Harlequin Romance. I loved the hero and heroine, but I also loved the idea of leaving your old life behind and starting a new one. The hero did that five years ago. The heroine's on a journey to do that now.

What would you do if you got a chance to start over again?

It's an interesting thing to ponder.

I'm once again giving away an autographed copy of the Maids Duet. Since I don't have any copies of Christmas books to give away! LOL

So comment below on what you'd do if you could start all over and be entered to win a copy of the duet -- MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD and MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE.

Happy fall!

Now on to Lesson 7.

susan

For the Writers Among Us
Lesson 7: More on constructing a List of 20

Here’s our list of twenty for the cabin-in-the-woods/close proximity book we started in our last lesson:

1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. Could be funny. And eventually intimate.
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…

This is where we ended…So today I add…

12. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'll show her she has nothing to worry about from him by calling his current girlfriend.
13. She gets prim and sets down rules and he decides he'd rather sleep in the garage than deal with her.

Come to a crashing halt again…Why?

First, because we took an answer and refined it. She still gets prim and sets down rules, but this time he decides to sleep in the garage, not call his girlfriend.

Second, this refinement is a tad better because his sleeping in the garage is totally unexpected in this kind of book. Why? Because this is a close proximity book. Readers expect certain things…like waking and talking in the night. Sleeping across the hall. Wondering about each other every time they slide under the covers across the hall from each other. His decision to sleep in the garage just took an old plot and made it a tad different.

So, in your list of 20, don't be afraid to refine any answer you get, but also, don't stop yourself from writing down the ridiculous or something that seems to break with the conventional rules. Sure, he may come back in from the garage in the middle of the night because it's cold and she won't let him freeze to death…or maybe the next night because she feels guilty but in either of those situations she has to entice him back and that's what good romance is all about!

Do you see what I'm saying? An unexpected twist, even if you only twist for a second can breathe new life into an old idea.

That takes us to #4 in our list of thing to remember when doing a list of 20

4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous.

Remember my PRINCE BABY list?

I got stuck, left my office, read the paper and saw U-2 was touring. Walking away and reading the newspaper really shifted my thoughts. Another person might have thought it stupid to say the King was touring with U-2, but I knew the power of the ridiculous.

Once I started thinking ridiculous thoughts, I let my mind go and came up with the King sitting at Michael Jackson’s trial. Again, ridiculous, but that answer shifted my thoughts enough that I realized that the King had to have been somewhere that he couldn’t leave.

That in and of itself wasn’t quite enough so using the refining technique, I took the idea that the King was somewhere he couldn’t leave – like Parliament, where he’d be missed! I added that to the list item about the King not wanting the press to realize (yet) that his grandson (the future king) was about to be born out of wedlock until his PR people had a chance to spin it and voila, an answer was born.

There is no better way to jumpstart your brain than to let it go anywhere it wants to . . . especially if it wants to go someplace ridiculous!

But here’s a little sidebar about the list of twenty. Sometimes you’ll have lists of twenty that spin off of your list of twenty.

What do I mean? Well, when I began pandering to the ridiculous to jumpstart my brain, I ultimately came to the conclusion that the king had to be somewhere he couldn’t leave. Basically, I did another list of twenty.

I said, where would a king be that he couldn’t leave…and why couldn’t he leave? If he’s king, he should be able to set his own schedule! LOL

I started with normal answers…He’s sick. His car is broke. His driver is sick. The private plane is already in use. He has work he needs to do…Ah. Work. What kind of work does a king do? He officiates over parliament!

I thought that through and decided (since this was MY made up country and I controlled the rules) that this parliament is only in session once a year for six weeks. If he leaves, it will cause a stir.

And from there I began blending answers. What happens when you cause a stir? The media starts looking into things. And what happens if the media looks into things…they find the out-of-wedlock future king before the king’s PR people can spin it.

So…The list of 20 is a fabulous thing. It frees your mind. You give yourself permission to consider the opposites of the typical conventions. You give yourself permission to think of the ridiculous. And sometimes the ridiculous leads you to the right answer! But none of that will happen if you don't ask the right question!

The bottom line for the list of twenty is two-fold.

First, you have to have an excellent question. Usually the more specific your question, the better your answer will fit.

Second, use the four rules…Don’t judge! Consider opposites. Try the ridiculous. And blend or modify answers that are close.

Your homework for today? Look at your WIP. Could a good question and a list of twenty lift it up into something wonderful?

Can you write a great question for that problem?

susan

Coming Attractions

This will be the last post for Prepping for Nano. Next month the workshop will already be in progress when the ezine comes out.

So if you need this info, take it down.

Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com

COURSE DESCRIPTION:

Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.

The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:

* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)

* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)

* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)

* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)

* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)

* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)

* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)

* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)

TESTIMONIALS:

“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”

- SGM

Fantasy writer

“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”

- JBS

Cat Tails!

Cat Confusion...

This year we're doing lots of house remodeling. One of the first things we did was install central air. When you install central air, it immediately changes your life. We knew that was coming. What we didn't expect was cat confusion.

Why? Because they like to go outside...at will. Now, we don't leave open any doors. So they sit by the front door and meow when they want to go out. But sometimes, they'll wander into the kitchen and glance wistfully at the sliding glass door...like I know I should be doing something here but I can't remember what!

I can't wait until October when we replace the worn sliding glass door with French Doors. That'll be interesting!

A Mom for Missy

What Came Before at Teaberry Farms, the winter wonderland setting for Susan Meier’s A BABY BENEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE, part of A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS anthology with Barbara Wallace

A Mom for Missy

The 1970’s were a confusing time for women. Pert and sassy blonde-haired, blue-eyed Sunny Peabody was no exception. She wasn’t against women’s lib. Quite the contrary. She believed the time had come for women to have a place in boardrooms across the country. But, personally, she loved to cook and wanted to spend most of her time in the kitchen. When she’d married the love of her life, a sophisticated, worldly man six years her senior, Max Peabody, she’d gotten a job working with him at Teaberry Farms.

He worked outside. A former entrepreneur, he’d sold his startup business to a Fortune 500 company and retired quite comfortably at thirty. Having spent eight years in offices, he relished the opportunity to be outdoors as the caretaker for the lush evergreens that grew along the steep West Virginia mountainside.

She worked inside, cooking and cleaning for the elderly Teaberries, two wonderfully wise people, who loved selling the Christmas trees everybody believed were magic. To Sophie and Reggie Teaberry, having Sunny and Max keep the place open for business was like getting a second wind. A second chance to provide miracles for the people of their small, rural town.

Sunny didn’t necessarily believe the trees themselves were magic, but she did believe in the magic of Christmas. She’d seen wealthy families step up and secretly provide surprises for those less fortunate. She’d seen younger people help older folks hang Christmas decorations or carry shopping bags. She’d seen money show up in mailboxes and gifts appear under trees. All from benefactors inspired by the legend of the Teaberry Trees.

So though it wasn’t conventional magic, good will and harmony sent a twinkle of something wonderful through the air. From the day after Thanksgiving when the Teaberrys opened their farm, “people magic” flowed through the trees, along the mountain, and to the wonderful small town below, Towering Pines.

That snowy Monday after Thanksgiving, Sunny glanced out the kitchen window of Teaberry Mansion just in time to see the shiny red Burkett’s Greenhouse truck driving up the lane. Six-year-old Missy Burkett jumped out of the passenger’s side as her father, Greg, a tall, lean man with thick auburn hair and dark brown eyes, slid out of the driver’s side.

Sunny quickly gathered a plate of chocolate chip cookies, slipped on her black wool coat and raced outside. “Missy! Hello!” she called, walking to the shed where freshly cut trees leaned against the weathered boards, awaiting customers.

“Hey, Mrs. Peabody,” Missy replied with a wave. A bright blue knit cap hid all but the bangs of her long yellow hair. Brisk early December air put color in her cheeks.

“I brought some cookies for you.”

“And for her dad, too?” Greg asked, laughing as he reached for one of the warm chocolate delights. Wearing a lined denim jacket over a red plaid work shirt, he took a bite of his cookie and groaned in ecstasy. “These are great.”

Missy glanced up and tried to smile. “Yeah, Mrs. P. They’re great. Thanks.”

Sunny’s heart turned over in her chest. Since the death of Missy’s mom two years before, the little girl lips had barely twitched upward. Sunny wished her father would come by the farm more often so she could bake Missy cookies, ruffle her hair, share girlie secrets the way a six-year-old should. But they only came around once a year to gather trees to sell at Greg’s nursery.

“Are you two here for trees?”

“Yes, please,” Missy said.

“They sell like hotcakes!” Greg said. “The legend of Teaberry Trees brings customers in droves.”

“Well, it’s easier for townspeople to buy from you than to drive up the mountain to our farm,” Sunny agreed.

Missy tugged on Sunny’s sleeve. “Is it true what they say about the trees?”

“That they’re magic?” Sunny laughed. “Don’t you believe?”

She glanced down at the sparkling snow beneath her shiny blue boots then back up at Sunny. “I want to believe.”

Sunny’s heart wept for her. Of course she wanted to believe. Undoubtedly, at some point Missy had wished to have her mom come back, not understanding that some things just couldn’t be fixed. And when that wish went unfulfilled, she’d begun losing faith. A sad thing to happen to a six-year-old.

Mary Alice Carter limped from behind the shed, carrying a huge evergreen wreath. Her long sable hair had been tucked beneath a bright red cap that matched her simple red jacket. Her bright green eyes sparkled.
Sunny’s former best friend from college had been in an automobile accident a few years before. Severe injuries to her lower body had not only left her with a limp, but also with an even sadder consequence.

Mary Alice couldn’t have children. When her fiancé was told, he’d broken their engagement. Now, Mary Alice poured out all her passion into floral arrangements in the summer and working for Teaberry Farms making wreaths in the winter.

Seeing the beautiful evergreen arrangement, Sunny clapped her hands together! “Oh my, who is that for?”

Mary Alice grinned. “Mrs. Thomas. She wants it for her front door. She thinks guests are more likely to touch this than her indoor tree. She wants everyone to get a wish this year.”

Sunny laughed at Mrs. Thomas’s creative interpretation of the legend, but Greg quickly hustled over and caught the huge wreath from Mary Alice’s hands.

A quick spark of something passed between them, as Greg said, “Let me.”

Mary Alice shyly glanced away as she handed the huge wreath to Greg.

Sunny looked down at Missy who studied her dad, then Mary Alice.

Her brow furrowed. She wondered if the six-year-old could tell that her dad obviously felt something for Mary Alice and that Mary Alice seemed to feel something for Greg – enough that the two of them would get together. Probably soon.

Tapping her finger on her cheek, Sunny wondered if this might not be a perfect opportunity to help one adorable child get her joy back. She didn’t really believe the trees had any power per se, but she recognized attraction when she saw it and she hated to see someone so young who didn’t believe in the power of wishes. What could it hurt?

She nudged the little girl over to the side of the shed, close to the plump pines awaiting buyers, and whispered, “Touch a branch.”

Missy frowned. “What?”

Sunny nodded at Mary Alice and Greg. “Touch the branch and wish.”

Missy’s eyes widened. She quickly grabbed a branch.

Just then Max strolled up a long thin path between two rows of trees. “What have we here?” Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and bright blue eyes, and wearing jeans and a big black parka, he didn’t look like the stuck-in-the-office entrepreneur he’d been just a few months before. He swung Missy up into his arms and then over his shoulder, tickling her tummy. “You’re not here to steal magic trees, are you?”

Missy giggled. “No! We’re buying them.”

“Then your daddy and I had better get them loaded before the snow comes this afternoon. Sunny, why don’t you take this young lady into the house and get her some cocoa?”

“Or she could come back with me and I’ll show her how to make a wreath.”

Mary Alice looked surprised to have made the offer. Self-conscious since her accident, she stayed in the background more than she associated with people. But Missy’s eyes lit with joy and she didn’t give Mary Alice a chance to change her mind. She glanced back at Sunny, who smiled and winked, insinuating the magic was already taking hold.

Missy scampered over to Mary Alice who took her hand and led her into the shed where she cut branches and knit them together over wire to create luxurious evergreen wreaths for the front doors and fireplace mantles of people in three counties.

Sunny returned to the kitchen and went back to the fruit horns she wanted to bake for the annual Teaberry Christmas party – a lavish event held every year on December 20 as a way to thank everyone for supporting Teaberry Farms. While the dough raised, she made hot cocoa and took it to the shed for Mary Alice and Missy, but she was really hoping to entice Greg inside for a cup of tummy-warming cocoa before he headed back to his business with his trees.

When she stepped into the shed, she found Missy half-standing on a chair leaning against Mary Alice’s worktable as Mary Alice explained the technique for cutting evergreen branches to get the perfect stems for a wreath or floral arrangement. Missy’s bright eyes followed Mary Alice’s every move, but it was the expression on Mary Alice’s face that caught Sunny’s attention. Mary Alice had longed to be a mom. Fate seemed to have stolen that chance from her, but not if Sunny had anything to say about it.

“I have cocoa,” she called, letting them know she was approaching.

Mary Alice brushed her hands over her long apron. “Thanks. It was time for a break.”

Sunny poured cocoa for both Mary Alice and Missy. They had taken only a few sips before Max and Greg returned.

“Have some cocoa,” Sunny said, quickly pouring a cup for Greg, knowing he’d be too polite to refuse it and hoping that would give him some private time with Mary Alice.

“Thanks.” He glanced around then smiled at Missy. “Are you learning to make wreaths?”

Missy said, “Yes,” at the same time that Mary Alice said, “I’m happy to teach her.”

But once again, Mary Alice frowned. Sunny had to put her fingers to her lips to keep everyone from seeing her smile. If she didn’t know better she’d think the Teaberry trees were Johnny on the spot today, getting Mary Alice to say things without realizing it. But the truth was she’d seen that spark pass between Mary Alice and Greg. This relationship might require a nudge, but it didn’t require a miracle.

She turned to Missy. “Why don’t you come inside with me and Mr. Peabody and we’ll fix up a plate of cookies for you to take home?”

Missy jumped off the chair, the prospect of homemade cookies for breakfast in the morning clearly too much to resist.

After they’d packed the cookies and Missy scooted out the door, Sunny stared after her with a thoughtful smile.

“What’s in that head of yours?” Max asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of cocoa.

“Oh, nothing.” With a private smile she turned back to assembling her fruit horns.

Max frowned and Sunny could all but see wheels turning in his brain as he backtracked over everything that had happened that morning, then he gasped. “I hope you’re not matchmaking.”

Sunny pivoted to face him. “What if I am? I think Greg and Mary Alice are perfect for each other.”

Max shook his head. “Greg doesn’t. He feels sorry for her. Last thing Mary Alice needs is a man who feels sorry for her.”

Sunny pressed her hand to her chest. Max was right. Mary Alice might have some handicaps, but she was a proud, strong woman. If Greg pitied her, it would hurt her. Putting them together would be wrong.

Except what did she do about Missy? She hadn’t only been matchmaking; she’d set this up so Missy would believe in wishes again! Oh, she’d botched this one royally.

Poor Sunny! Go to A Mom for Missy -- Part 2 to see if she's able to fix her mistake!

copyright 2010 susan meier

To finish the story go to

http://amomformissy.blogspot.com/

BLAST FROM THE PAST!

Excerpt from Her Baby's First Christmas

Jared Johnson drove his black SUV out of the basement parking garage of Clover Valley Luxury Apartments onto the street and saw Elise McDermott standing on the corner in the pouring rain. Suitcase, diaper bag and small boxlike container on the sidewalk beside her feet, she held her baby in a carrier, which she protectively sheltered with her umbrella.

But the storm was relentless and Jared suspected it wouldn't take more than a minute or two before Elise and her baby would be soaked. Angry with her for standing in the rain with a baby, when she could be in their building lobby, he stopped his SUV and hit the button that lowered the passenger side window.

Leaning across his seat, he yelled, "What the hell are you doing out in this storm with a baby!"

"I'm waiting for a taxi to take me to the bus station."

With the window down, he could hear the heavy California rain as it pounded on his windshield, roof and hood. Obviously thinking he'd yelled to be heard over the noise and not out of anger, she stepped closer. Her pretty green eyes were dull with worry. Her thick, curly red hair danced around her in the wind.

"But I've been waiting a while. And the schedule I have has the bus leaving in a little over an hour. If I miss it, I won't get to North Carolina in time to do everything I need to do before Christmas. Do you think my taxi forgot me?"

"Yes!" Guilt stabbed him. She wasn't standing in the rain like a ninny with no place to go. It sounded as if she was on her way home for the holiday. To her real home. Not a condo she was house-sitting as she'd been for the past six months for Michael Feeney while he was in Europe. And her taxi had forgotten her. She wasn't a scatterbrain. He had to stop jumping to conclusions that everybody who did anything out of the realm of what he considered normal was somehow wrong.

Annoyed with himself, he sighed and glanced at his watch before he shoved his gearshift into Park. He was way too early for his flight anyway.

He jumped out of his SUV and rounded the hood. He knew from experience there was only one way to deal with his guilt. Penance.

"How about if I give you a ride to the bus station?"

Elise McDermott stared at dark-haired, gray-eyed, absolutely gorgeous Jared Johnson. He wore an expensive raincoat over a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and was currently getting drenched because he didn't have an umbrella. When she'd agreed to house-sit for for Michael Feeney, Michael had told her Jared was the person to call if anything happened while he was away. He laughingly said Jared was grouchy, but once he got over being disturbed, he would always come through, if only out of guilt. Jared had probably offered her a ride because he felt bad about yelling at her.

"I'd love a ride, but you're obviously on your way somewhere and I don't want to be any trouble."

He reached for her suitcase. "No trouble."

She put her hand over his on the handle. "I'm serious. You were going somewhere and I don't like to be a bother." He might want to make up for yelling at her, but he didn't have to. Being alone and pregnant, she'd learned to stand on her own two feet. She didn't need to be coddled. "I'll call another cab."

"I'm on my way to the aiprort, but I'm early. Way too early. You'll be doing me a favor if you let me make the side trip to the bus station. I won't have to sit in the airport lounge for three hours."

"But--"

Before she could argue any further, he pulled on the suitcase, easily wrestling it away from her. "Come on."

She opened her mouth to stop him, but the wind caught her umbrella and she couldn't hold it. The rush of air jerked the handle out of her grip and it took off like a kite.

He nodded at the baby seat. "You buckle her in," he said, shouting over the noise of the storm as he bgan walking to the rear of the SUV. "I'll put these in the back."

She shook her head. Lord, he was persistent -- and she was getting drenched. Since he was offering to do what she'd have to pay a cab to do, she supposed she'd be foolish to argue.

By the time he had stowed her gear, she was done with the baby. She clicked the final strap, shut the back door and settled into the passenger seat of his SUV. He slid behind the steering wheel and closed the door. Suddenly it was blessedly dry and quiet.

He hit the buttons to activate the heater and she glanced at all the bells and whistles in his obviously expensive vehicle. "Wow. It's so quiet in here."

"That's one of the car's selling points. It's quiet."

"Yeah, quiet and ... wonderful. Holy cow. This must have cost a chunk of change."

"It's nothing compared to the things my clients drive."

"It might be nothing compared to your clients' rides --" According to the building rumor mill, the guy in the penthouse -- as Jared was known to most of the residents -- was the attorney for several recording artists, one recording studio and a few movie stars, so she didn't doubt his clients drove incredibly fancy cars. "But compared to the rest of us, you're sitting pretty."

Her praise seemed to make him uncomfortable and he shifted on his seat. His jaw tightened. "I wasn't always well-off."

Because she didn't know him, had only seen him a few times in the lobby waiting for the elevator to his penthouse, she had no idea why he'd be upset to have money. But since she'd never see him again, it didn't matter. He was who he was. Rich. She was who she was -- a single mom without an extra cent to spare. Six years ago when her mom died, she'd left North Carolina with her boyfriend, Patrick, with big dreams, but she'd ended up supporting him. When she'd gotten pregnant, he'd left as if his feet were on fire. She and Jared Johnson had nothing in common and there was no sense pretending they did by making mindless small talk.

She settled into the bucket seat and closed her eyes. Besides, she had a few things to think about. She was returning to North Carolina, but not the small town she grew up in. She'd inherited her grandmother's house in the town right beside it. She was going to the hometown of her father. The guy who had left her mom. The guy she didn't even know. And she wasn't sure whether the good people of Four Corners, North Carolina would welcome her with open arms, or treat her like the plague. She only knew the grandmother she'd never met had left her a piece of property. A place she could sell, hopefully for enough money to buy a home to raise her baby.

The same grandmother who hadn't even wanted to meet her, hadn't acknowledge her as her kin, had given her her first break in life.

And she'd be a fool not to take it.

Suddenly the SUV was so quiet Jared could hear his own breathing. This was a bad idea. Elise was virtually a stranger and here they were, trapped in a car for at least twenty minutes, with nothing to talk about. He fixed his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at the shops lining the street, then he saw the Christmas tree in front of Meg's Memory Mart, growing in a pot big enough to accommodate a four-foot fir, covered in blinking lights and tinsel. His heart cuaght. His breathing shivered.

Stop.

She's gone.

He shifted on the seat, struggling to rein in a flood of memories. He had to get a hold of himself now, before his plane landed in New York. If he didn't, his pain would be infinitely worse when he got to the city where every damned thing on every damned street would remind him of the absolutely perfect life he'd lost. He couldn't cancel his trip. After five years of his finding excuses not to come home, his parents had threatened to come to Califofnia with their friend "the shrink" if he backed out this year. They didn't think it was normal for him to stay away as long as he had. They thought he was a little bit crazy. He had to show them he was okay.

Even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure he was.

Blocking that last thought, he fixed his mind on upcoming contract negotiations for one of his clients, and the rest of the drive to the bus station passed in silence. He pulled up to the curb and Elise eagerly jumped out when he stopped the car. He climbed out of his side of the vehicle and headed for the back of the SUV.

"Here," he said, grabbing her suitcase before she could. "I'll get these. You get the baby."

"That's okay. I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can. But I've got plenty of time. Think of this as part of the way I'm wasting those three hours before my flight."

She rolled her eyes, but strode to the side of his vehicle, letting him unload her things. He added her six-pack-size cooler and diaper bag to the suitcase he already had and walked to the passenger's side of the SUV where she was getting her baby from the backseat.

She arranged the baby carrier in her right hand and motioned for him to slide the straps for the diaper bag and cooler to her shoulder. "I'll take those."

She wasn't going to let him help her into the bus station? That was ridiculous. She could barely carry all those things.

Still, rather than argue, he said, "Okay," and slid the bag and cooler in place before setting the suitcase at her feet for her to take. Then he surprised her by removing the baby carrier from her right hand. "I'll take the baby."

"We're fine."

"I'm sure you are, but I'm happy to hold her while you get your tickets."

"I'm--"

"Fine. I know. But I have time and I can use it to save you the trouble of juggling the baby while you buy your bus tickets."

"You know, you wouldn't have to pay penance for the guilt you feel when you yell at people if you'd simply stop yelling at people."

It surprised him that she'd caught on to the guilt and penance thing he had going and that unexpectedly struck him as funny. Despite himself, he smiled. "Why do you think I usually don't talk to people?"

"I thought you were a snob."

That made him out-and-out laugh. She gave him a strange look, but turned away and marched into the bus station. He followed, glancing down at the baby in the carrier. "Hey, Molly."

The cubby, curly-haired baby grinned at him, her toothless gums exposed, spit bubbles forming at the corner of her mouth. With her pale red hair, she looked adorable in her little pink one-piece outfit, bundled in blankets.

He strode to a bench seat, pleased Molly wasn't giving him any trouble. But when Elise got in line, the baby began to fuss and then to cry. Two people took places behind Elise, putting her out of reach for assistance.

Cursing, he sat and began unbuckling the straps confining the unhappy baby. Passengers on the other benches around him turned and gave him pointed looks, letting him know how little they appreciated a crying baby in their midst.

"Hush, now. I'm going as fast as I can."

The last snap popped and he pulled Molly from her seat. She immediately stopped crying and grinned toothlessly at him.

"Oh, I get it. You did that on purpose, didn't you? Made me think you were going to make a scene when you only wanted me to pick you up?"

She cooed and her grin widened.

"Stop being cute. I'm immune."

His stern voice caused her face to pucker as if she were about to cry again and, not wanting to risk the wrath of the waiting passengers, Jarad rose to walk with her.

Pacing back and forth seemed to amuse her enough that she looked around curiously. Jared relaxed. Knowing he had to keep moving, he meandered to the large screen that displayed the schedules. He scanned until he saw the one for North Carolina and his mouth fell open.

Eight days?

It would take Elise eight days to get to North Carolina? He glanced at the people milling around the bus station. Eight days on a moving vehicle with the people currently giving him beady-eyed stares, obviously not at all pleased to see they'd be traveling with a baby? Oh, Lord. Elise was in trouble.

He glanced at the screen again to be sure he'd seen correctly and he had. Eight long days to get to North Carolina. The bus had to be taking routes that would allow it to drop other passengers along the way. Driving himself, he'd traveled from New York City to Los Angeles in five days.

He frowned. He had driven it in five days. If he were to drive Elise, that would cut her trip nearly in half and get her out of the bus filled with passengers who didn't want her. On top of that, those five days of driving would delay his arrival. He wouldn't have to spend three weeks in a city that only reminded him of what he'd lost. He'd have a delay in seeing, hearing, smelling things in New York that would remind him of better days. Perfect days. The perfect life that had slipped through his fingers. And then he could cut another five days off because he'd have to drive back to L.A.

He shook his head in bemusement. As good as that sounded it was a bad idea. Not only was Elise going to North Carolina, hundreds of miles south of New York City, but how would he explain it to his parents? Out of the blue he'd decided to drive a neighbor the whole way to North Carolina for the holidays? Then for sure they'd think he was insane.

He watched Elise step out of the line, holding her ticket and for a second he envied her. Relief showed on her face, but of course, that mood wouldn't last. Once the busload of passengers got fed up with her and her baby, she'd be miserable.

But he couldn't simply offer her a ride. Even if they agreed to find a bus station for her in whatever city their paths separated, he still had to have a reason for driving instead of flying -- one that didn't sound like an obvious stall tactic to his parents.

Elise walked up to him and opened her arms for her baby. "What happened?"

"She cried."

"Ah, she bullied you into picking her up."

"That's exactly what it felt like."

"Well, your time of duty is up." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry if I was a bit brusque before. I'm nervous about this trip."

He glanced at his feet. "It's all right." He raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'm nervous about my trip too."

"So we have a little in common after all."

"Yeah. That and Michael Feeney."

"Michael's been a good friend to me."

Jared nodded. "Me, too." He smiled at her, glad to have assuaged her worry over her missing the taxi by driving her to the bus station. "Have a nice trip."

"And you have a safe flight."

Jared nodded and turned to go at the same time that the loudspeaker crackled to life. "Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that trip number --"

The loudspeaker squeaked and crackled and Jared didn't hear the numbr, but it didn't matter. He headed for the wide, double-door entrance.

"--Final destination Raleigh, North Carolina has been postposed due to mechancial difficulties and has been rescheduled for tomorrow at ten."

Elise glanced down at her ticket, then squeezed her eyes shut. For heaven's sake! Inheriting her grandmother's house was supposed to be her lucky break. Yet everything that could go wrong with this trip was going wrong. What was she supposed to do for twenty-four hours in a bus station with a baby? Maybe she could get a ticket for the next bus.

She had the idea at the same time as everybody else in the bus station. Package-laden passengers jammed the ticket window.

She stared at them in dismay, until someone grabbed her arm and turned her around.

Jared.

He let go of her arm and rammed his fingers through his thick black hair. His gray eyes circled the complex as if the last thing he wanted to do was look at her. But eventually, his gaze swung around, caught hers and held it.

"Is that your bus?"

***

So what do you think? Does Jared offer a ride the whole way to Ohio? Does she accept?

Happy September! We'll see you again in October, when my website should be updated with not 1 or 2 or even three contests...but FOUR chances to win all 3 books in the Babies in the Boardroom Series.

susan meier

August 2011

2011-08-01T05:34:00.000-07:00

We're back! Ready to do Lesson 6 from THE POWER OF QUESTIONS? Ready to hear about my goofy cats? See an excerpt from one of the Boardroom Baby stories? How about an excerpt from one of the books in my Maid's Duet? Maid for the Single Dad?

Ready to comment for a chance to win a copy of both books in the Duet Maid for the Millionaire
and Maid for the Single Dad?

It's all here. Along with the information about the Pennwriters workshop PREPPING FOR NANO, which begins in October.

And speaking of workshops. I'm keeping my schedule at four again next year. No repeats. Each workshop only given once. Technically, I'm giving each group that approaches me an "exclusive" for a year! LOL

I haven't decided what RWA chapters to approach...so I thought I'd ask you. Is there anyone here who'd like me to approach their chapter?

Email me through Contact Susan at susanmeier.com. Or comment here.

So what have I been up to this summer?

As most of you know, my husband retired. He's a considerate, quiet man -- mostly because he knows I need mornings to write and we need my income! :)

But he's usually a great guy. Retirement has made him even more so. I asked him about his super-agreeability and he told me that with no bosses to worry about life is pretty fun.

So is golfing every day. :)

My family is continuing our tradition of Wednesday morning breakfasts. Because there are a few teachers and school employees in my family all of whom have summers off, we get together every Wednesday morning and eat breakfast.

These are great events. The kids come, so at least once a week I get to see my nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and nephews. They chase my cats. We all eat blueberries. And no matter whose house we go to that Wednesday, there's always a fantastic surprise. My sisters and nieces are wonderful cooks ... and this year we had a birthday cake for my brother John to go with my eggs and sausage (and blueberries).

There's nothing like a good family tradition to make memories. Our hope is that all the kids who attend these breakfasts someday look back and this and smile.

Okay...on to Lesson 6 where we delve a little deeper into the making of a good list of 20.

susan

For the Writers Among Us

Lesson 6: How to do the List of Twenty

In the last lesson, once we wrote a great question, I hinted that there are specific tricks to doing a list of twenty. I mentioned the power of the ridiculous and the power of writing down opposites. But there are actually four guidelines to a good list of twenty.

1. Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write! Let your brain work!
2. When you’re stumped write down the opposite of what you have.
3. Refine answers that are close but not quite what you want.
4. Never underestimate the power of the ridiculous answer.

Let’s start with point 1: Write down everything you think of. Don’t judge, just write.

When you judge too quickly, your brain begins to shut down. Or it runs along typical, familiar, acceptable paths. That might seem great, but it isn’t. In order to shake yourself out of the familiar, to come up with a story that’s “the same” yet “different” (How many times have we heard that!) your brain needs to be able to stretch. It will not stretch if you criticize. It will stop.

You need to come up with ridiculous answers to free your mind. But we’re jumping ahead of ourselves here, so the best way to explain all this to you is through an example.

Let’s say you have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods and you think…Okay, now what? Not only are there 10 other stuck-in-the-cabin-in-the-woods books this year, so I need to distinguish myself, but also I want to write something interesting. Something cool.

And by the way, that’s how people like me who write book after book after book and want to satisfy an existing audience without repeating ourselves do it. We figure out the way THIS BOOK can be different. Can distinguish itself. Can be spectacular. And don’t we all want to write something spectacular? Something that fits the market, yet somehow transcends it. No matter if you’re writing fantasy, crime, mystery, thriller or whatever…you still want your book to be spectacular. This is how you make it a cut above the rest!

So, say, we have a hero and heroine who are stuck in a cabin in the woods…and we want to make a "list of 20" so that we can come up with something “fresh” for this story.

At the top of your pages you write…My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?

That question might seem a bit vague, but sometimes vague is good. We’re just starting out with this book, feeling our way around, trying to figure out if we can come up with something that’s unique and worthy of our time…so we give ourselves a little leeway! LOL

Okay, so the question is… My hero and heroine are trapped in a cabin in the woods…What could happen to make this really, really interesting?

You list:

1. The furnace doesn't work and they have to snuggle together. (Remember no judgment! No saying one is right or wrong or better or stupid or ridiculous or too cliché . . . Just keep writing.)
2. She has no luggage and has to wear his clothes. (Could be funny. And eventually intimate.)
3. They sleep in bedrooms across the hall.
4. He sleeps on the sofa and gets a backache.
5. He catches her in the bathtub.
6. Somebody else arrives.
7. Her dad is with them.
8. She has a child.
9. They hear a radio report that a killer is on the loose (Is this a suspense…Or just a really cool way to get them into the same bedroom? LOL)
10. The storm gets worse.
11. The storm ends…

Oh…Oh…what did we just do? Something that was opposite of a good idea was actually a better idea. Or at the very least a unique direction for us to try with our "typical" story idea. In most cabin-in-the-woods books (a/k/a close proximity books) the situation gets worse. Could your situation get better? Could it appear that he's leaving? Could they have a gray moment? Could there be angst? Could they sleep together, thinking it's a fling that will be over the next morning because the storm is over and he'll be leaving, only to discover that after he drives off, he has to come back because the bridge washed out. So now they have to face each other after sex that wasn't supposed to happen.

Wow. That could be cool or funny or powerful! At the very least it would be emotional.

Opposite answers can turn everything on its proverbial ear! And notice how that one answer turned into another five or six possible answers to the "what will make our cabin in the woods story different" question!

So every once in a while writing down an "opposite" of your idea is a very good way to shake things up. Particularly since sometimes the opposite of an "expected" answer is actually the right one.

That’s it for this lesson. For your homework, I’d like you to create a question as well as a list of twenty for a spin on the marriage of convenience story. This is something we’ve all seen…so can you create a crafty question that would help you come up with 20 spins on this story, so that you can eventually find one that hasn’t been done…or one that would make your story stand out in a crowd?

I know not everyone will get to 20, but I think it will be fun for you to see how many spins you can put on a Marriage of Convenience!

(As I’ve said, this is how those of us who have been writing the same six or eight stories for the past 20 years come up with “fresh” ideas for our books!)

susan

Coming Attractions

Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com

COURSE DESCRIPTION:

Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.

The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:

* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)

* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)

* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)

* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)

* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)

* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)

* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)

* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)

TESTIMONIALS:

“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”

- SGM

Fantasy writer

“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”

- JBS

Cat Tails

Fluffy in a box.

There's no tail today...just a picture which is worth a thousand words.

If you think it's funny to see him squished in that box, you should see how he twists and turns to actually get himself inside!

This Month's Short

FALLING FOR THE PLAYBOY

Even exiting one of his family’s private jets, Michael Andreas didn’t look like a wealthy heir. Heeding his cousin Gino’s warning to avoid being ostentatious, he wore jeans and a T-shirt. He skipped the family limo and instead called a cab, giving the driver the address Gino had scribbled on a business card.

When they reached the old building in an even older New York City neighborhood, Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“That’s the address on the card, buddy.” The driver held out his hand. “Pay up.”

Michael handed him a credit card, added a generous tip to the bill and got out. Duffle bag over his shoulder, he walked into the building only to discover there was no elevator. He shook his head. Love had certainly done weird things to his normally sane, pragmatic cousin.

After climbing four flights of stairs, he followed the sound of music to the apartment at the end of the hall. The door was open. Guests dressed in jeans and T-shirts spilled out into the hallway. Edging his way into the apartment, he smiled. Renovated. Thank God.

He tossed his duffle bag behind a beige leather sofa and ambled up to the bar. “Scotch. Neat.”

The bartender grabbed the bottle. A pretty brunette walked up beside him. Her hair was a glossy waterfall of sable curls that fell just a bit past her shoulders. Her wide blue eyes were cautious. The T-shirt she wore showed off an hourglass figure. Something he didn’t often see in his world. Women who lived in his tiny North Carolina beach town seemed to believe that thinner was better. He didn’t like to disagree with ladies but that whole thin thing wasn’t the way to attract a man.

Taking his Scotch from the bartender, he faced the brunette. “So, come here often?” Considering that this was a housewarming to show off a newly renovated apartment that no one had seen, he thought that was a pretty good joke.

She didn’t turn to look at him. Only her eyes moved. Taking him in through her peripheral vision, she asked, “Is that a joke?”

He laughed. “Actually, yes.”

“Well, it’s a poor one.” She took her wine from the bartender. “Excuse me.”

He blinked.

Normally when women saw his chin length curly black hair, catlike green eyes and shadow of dark whiskers, they didn’t actually swoon, but he had seen some breath-stuttering.

Something wasn’t right here.

He pivoted and caught up to her at the sofa. It surprised him that it was empty, considering the number of guests, but he wasn’t complaining.

Acting as if it was a foregone conclusion that he would follow her, he plopped down beside her. “I’m Michael Andreas. Gino’s cousin.” He extended his hand to shake hers. “And you are?”

This time, she turned to him. She studied him the same way a scientist examined a bug under a microscope before she smiled sweetly and rose. “Not interested.”

With that she walked away, blending into the dense crowd. Michael felt as if somebody had slapped him. It wasn’t that he was vain. It was more that women liked him. Having grown up with two sisters and an adorable mom, he’d quickly learned the ins and outs of getting on their good side and he’d taken the experience with him into the dating world. He more than treated women with respect; he was good to them.

He was sweet, damn it!

He hoisted himself off the sofa and angled his way through the crowd. He found the brunette standing in a small cluster of people. His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t actually in the cluster. She was looking at a piece of art on the wall beside the cluster.

He frowned. People normally came to parties to meet other people. To mingle. And he’d introduced himself. It didn’t make sense that she’d ditch him to stand alone.

He downed his drink and walked back to the bar. He ordered another Scotch and a glass of white wine. Holding the two drinks above his head, he made his way through the crowd to the brunette.

“When I finished my drink, I figured you’d probably finished yours.” He offered her the wine with a smile.

She hissed out an annoyed breath and presented her still full glass to him. “No. I haven’t.”

Her blue eyes glittered with irritation, but her attitude didn’t match the soft curly hair falling around her or the soft body outlined by the blue T-shirt and jeans.

Something was definitely off here.

Frustration with her attitude quickly turned into challenge. It had been a while since a woman had flat out turned him away. So maybe he was getting soft? Maybe he needed a test to get him back on his game?

He chugged her wine, set the glass on an available table and smiled. “Problem solved.”

With a sigh of disgust, she turned away at the same time that Gino came ambling over, his arm around his fiancée, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Bethany Johnson.

“Michael!” Bethany caught his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek. “I see you’ve met Lucy.”

He planted his tongue in his cheek. “I’ve been trying to meet Lucy.”

Gino slapped him on the back and pointedly steered him away from the girls. “Let me buy you a Scotch.”
He glanced back to where Bethany was happily chatting with the woman he’d intended to pursue. “I’ve had two and a glass of wine.”

“Are you driving?”

“I took a cab.”

“Then you can have seven and as much wine as you want.” He ordered two Scotches and handed one to Michael. “Besides I want to show you what we’ve done to the place.”

Lucy Donovan blew her breath out on a sigh, watching Michael Andreas walk away with her cousin Gino.

“Are you okay?”

She returned her gaze to Bethany. “I’m fine.” Seeing the concerned expression on her friend’s face, her chest tightened. Not with sadness but with misery. Would she forever be the poster girl for being dumped and unhappy? “I’d actually be better if everybody would stop asking if I’m okay.”

Bethany winced. “I know. But it’s only been two weeks since Justin… well…asked for his ring back. We’re all just feeling a little protective.”

She tried to smile. “I’m fine.”

“Of course, you are. Let’s go meet some people.”

She led Lucy into the crowd and introduced her to six or seven members of the Andreas Holdings staff, people ranging from their early twenties to late fifties, but her gaze drifted over to Michael Andreas.

He was tall, gorgeous, exasperating … Still, he didn’t take himself too seriously. Otherwise, he’d have scurried away when she rebuffed him.

She studied the way his T-shirt caressed his perfect shoulders and well developed chest. There were probably six-pack abs under there too. And why not? The guy lived in paradise. He played volley ball the way Northern guys played golf. Which explained why he was also golden brown.

She’d even been to his family’s beach house a time or two when she was younger. Though she was Whitney Ross Andreas’s second or third cousin, she’d always treated Whitney like an aunt and Whitney and Darius’s children like her cousins. So they’d taken her on beach trips. She knew Michael’s mom and dad. Knew his sisters.

Which meant she also knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to settle down …

But right at this moment she’d shoot the first man who tried to get her into a serious relationship.

She paused. Now that she thought about it, she and Michael Andreas wanted the same thing. A little relief from boredom. A little fun with somebody who wouldn’t take the affair too seriously.

Maybe she’d been too hasty in brushing him off?

To finish the story ... http://susanmeier-happilyeverafter.blogspot.com/

Blast from the Past

MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD

Chapter 1

Ellie Swanson had not signed up for this.

Yes, she’d agreed to run Happy Maids while her boss, Liz Harper Nestor – took a well deserved honeymoon after remarrying her gorgeous ex-husband Cain. And, yes, she was perfectly capable of supervising the fourteen or so employees on Happy Maids’ payroll for the four weeks Liz would be in Paris. But she wasn’t authorized to make a change in the company’s business plan, as the man across the desk wanted her to do.

“I’m a friend of Cain’s.”

Of course he was. Tall and slender with perfect blue eyes and black hair cut short and businesslike, Mac Carmichael wore his tailored navy blue suit with the casual ease of a man accustomed to handmade suits, fine wines, and people taking his orders. Just like Cain.

“And he told me his wife’s company was the best in town.”

“But we’re a weekly cleaning service. We don’t place maids in clients’ homes.”

“You should.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Ellie’s back. The air conditioning had broken the day Liz left. But Ellie could handle the heat and humidity of June in Miami. What she couldn’t abide was failure. Her first day on the job and already she was turning away a client. An important client. A client who could not only tell Cain that Happy Maids hadn’t come through for him; he could also tell all his wealthy friends – the very people Liz would be marketing to when she returned.

Ellie leaned back on the chair, tapping a pencil on the desk blotter. “Explain again what you’re looking for.”

“My maid quit unexpectedly. I need to hire a temporary replacement while I interview for another one.”

“I can send someone to your house a few times a week to clean,” she said hopefully.

He shook his head. “I have a daughter and a son. They need breakfast every morning.”

“Then I’ll be happy to send someone every day at seven.”

“Lacy gets up at five.”

“Then I’ll have someone at four.”

“I work some nights.”

Ellie gaped at him. “You want the maid to be a nanny too?”

He caught her gaze. His sinfully blue eyes held hers and she fought the urge to swallow as pinpricks of attraction sparkled along her nerve endings.

“And live in.”

She gasped. “Live in?”

“I also pay very well.”

Ah, the magic words. A victim of domestic violence herself, Liz had gotten involved with A Friend Indeed, a charity that helped women transition out of their abusive homes and into new lives. It was a natural fit that Liz should begin employing the women from A Friend Indeed until they got on their feet. Ellie had actually been the first client Liz had hired through a meet at the charity. The company needed every job – especially the good paying ones – to provide work for all the women who wanted help.

Mac rose from his seat. “Look, if your firm can’t handle it, I’ll be on my way.”

He turned to the door.

Stop him!

She bounced out of her chair. “Wait.”

He faced her again. This time she did swallow. His eyes reminded her of the ocean in the dead of summer, calm and deep, and perfect blue. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring in from the window to his right. High cheekbones angled to blissfully full lips, the kind that made most women take a second glance and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It should have been pure pleasure to look at him. Instead, the scowl on his face caused Ellie to doubt the intuition that guided her life.

“Yes?”

“I –“ Why had her intuition told her to stop him? She didn’t have anybody who could work as a maid/nanny. Most of Liz’s employees had kids of their own and homes to get back to every night. They couldn’t live in. And that’s what he needed.

“I – um – maybe we can work something out.”

His scowl grew even darker. “I don’t work things out.”
No kidding. She didn’t need intuition to tell her that.

“I want someone today.”

Don’t let him go.

She groaned inwardly, wondering why her sixth sense was so insistent on this. But accustomed to listening to the intuition that had saved her life, she couldn’t ignore it.

“I’ll do it.”

His scowl shifted into a look of confusion. “You?”

“I know I’m behind the desk today, but I’m only filling in for Cain’s wife, Liz. She runs the business herself, but this month she’s on her honeymoon. I’m more than capable of cooking, cleaning and caring for children.”

His eyes held hers for another second or two. Then his gaze dipped from her face to her pretty red dress, and Ellie suddenly regretted her decision to wear something as exposing as the short strapless creation made more for having lunch with friends on a sunny sidewalk café than working in an office. But not having air conditioning had made the choice for her. How was she supposed to know a client would show up?

He smiled and all the air whooshed out of Ellie’s lungs. The temperature in her blood rose to an almost unbearable level. She could have melted where she stood. If this guy lived up north, snowflakes wouldn’t stand a chance against that smile.

“We have air conditioning, so you might want to change into jeans and a T-shirt.” He took a business card out of his jacket pocket, scribbled on the back and handed it to her. “That’s my home address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” Then he turned and walked out the door.

Ellie collapsed on the office chair. Damn it! What had her intuition gotten her into? Now she not only had all of Liz’s work, she also had a full-time job. More than full-time! She had to live in!

With a sigh of frustration with herself, she lifted the receiver of the phone on the desk and quickly dialed the number for Cain’s personal assistant, Ava.

“Are you busy?”

“Hey, good morning, Magic. How’s your first day going?”

“Abysmally. Don’t call me Magic anymore. I think my intuition is on the fritz.”

Ava laughed.

“I’m serious. Some guy came in here this morning, demanding a full-time maid and nanny – someone to live in – and I volunteered to take the job.”

“Yourself?”

Angling her elbow on the desk, Ellie cradled her chin on her palm. “Yes.”

“Oh, that’s so not like you!”

“I know. But he’s a friend of Cain’s and I worried about disappointing him. My intuition got all jumbled while he was here and before I knew it I was taking the job myself.” She winced. “I was thinking maybe you could find an agency that can get him a real temporary maid, then call him back and tell him I made a mistake.”

“All right. I’ll handle it. Give me his name.”

Ellie flipped the card over. “Mac Carmichael.”

“Oh, damn.”

Oh damn?

“Oh, damn what?”

“Ellie, you’re stuck. He is a major pain in the butt, so not even finding him a real full-time maid would fix this. He’d never change a deal he’s already made. But he’s also somebody Cain’s been courting for years.”

“Courting?”

“His family owns hotels all over the world. Cain’s been trying to get in on the construction end. This might be a test for Cain.”

Ellie lowered her forehead to her palm. “Which is probably why my intuition wouldn’t let me tell him no.”

“I’m guessing,” Ava agreed. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. It doesn’t matter where I work, so I’ll forward my calls to the Happy Maids office and handle your phone and walk-ins during the day. Then we’ll spend an hour or so together every night doing the day’s paperwork.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! This isn’t just Happy Maids on the line. It’s also Cain’s business and I’m Cain’s assistant. I have to do whatever needs to be done. Beside, I like you.”

Ellie laughed. “Okay.”

“Okay? Miss Magic, it will be more than okay. We will make it great. You’ll do such a good job for Mac that you’ll earn all kind of brownie points for Liz and Happy Maids, and you might just get Cain the “in” with Carmichael Incorporated that he’s been lobbying for for the past years.”

Elllie sat up. “Yeah. You’re right. This is a good thing.”

“This is potentially a very good thing,” Ava agreed. “And I will do anything at all you need me to do.”

“Handling the office during the day should be all the help I need.”

“I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Bring a key because I have to leave right now. Mr. Carmichael wants me at his house in--” She glanced down at the card again -- “Coral Gables in an hour and I need to pack a bag if I’m going to be living there.”

“You better get a move on.”

“Okay. And Ava?”

“Yes.”

Ellie winced. “You might want to stop on your way and buy a tank top and shorts.”

Ava laughed. “How about if I just call an HVAC repairman?”

“That’ll do it, too. I’ll see you tonight.”

Mac Carmichael raced his Bentley along the winding streets of Coral Gables and onto his driveway. He stopped at the gate, punched a code into the box on the left, opening the gate, and then roared up the stone drive to the side of his huge house. The garage door opened with another press of a button and he zipped inside. As the door closed behind him, he hopped out of his car, walked through the garage, into the butler’s pantry then into the huge gourmet kitchen.

His blond-haired six-year-old daughter Lacy sat at the long weathered-wood table by the French doors, coloring. Nine-month-old son Henry sat in a high chair beside her. His former nanny and current next door neighbor, Mrs. Pomeroy, wiped baby food off his mouth with a wet cloth.

“How did it go?”

He sighed. “Well, I found someone.”

“Great.”

“I’m not sure. She’s--” Tall and blonde and so good looking he damned near turned around and sought out another agency. “Well, she seems a little spacey.”

Eighty-year-old Elmira Pomeroy laughed. “Spacey? Is she a drinker?”

“No, she’s just--” Inappropriately dressed, too pretty for words – “Kind of odd.”

“Are you sure you want her around your kids?”

“She’s not that kind of odd. Besides, I don’t have a
choice. I need total and complete privacy. I can’t risk hiring a big impersonal firm or someone who doesn’t need me enough to keep her silence.”

“You think she’s made the connection yet that if she does well her boss’s husband could make millions?”

He tossed his suit coat over the back of a chair. “I’m hoping. If she hasn’t yet, one call to anybody in Cain’s office will get her the info. That should be the carrot on the stick that keeps her here long enough for me to find someone.” He leaned in over Lacy. “Hey, baby. What are you doing?”

She gave him a patient look. “Coloring.”

“Why don’t you put on your swimsuit and we’ll take a dip while Mrs. Pomeroy is still here for Henry.”
Her heart-shaped face wreathed in smiles. Her blue eyes danced with delight. “Okay!”

She raced from the room and Mac pulled Henry from his high chair. “And how are you today?”

Yellow-haired, blue-eyed Henry slapped a chubby fist on his father’s cheek.

“Feisty, I see.”

“You better believe he’s been feisty.” Mrs. Pomeroy took his bottle from the warmer and tested the temperature. “I’m not sure if he tired himself out enough that he’ll fall asleep immediately after he drinks this or if he’s too wound up to sleep at all.”

“If you have any problems, come and get me from the pool.”

Mrs. Pomeroy’s wrinkled face fell in sympathetic lines. “No. You take the time with Lacy. You both could use a few minutes of fun.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to shirk my responsibility to the kids.”

“You’re a good dad.”

He pulled in a breath and turned away, trying to make light of her compliment. “I only do what any father should do.”

That was why it never would have even crossed his mind to desert his children the way their mother had. He couldn’t believe any person would be so narcissistic that she’d abandon her kids just because a second child had been inconvenient to her career. Pamela had been so angry to be pregnant again when she’d read the results of her early pregnancy test that she’d packed a bag, left him and filed for divorce within days. She returned to Hollywood, California, where she immediately resurrected her movie career.

Nine months later, she handed Henry over to Mac. She visited once a month, saying it was difficult to fly across the country anymore than that. But on her last visit she told Mac she might not be able to visit in July. The movie she had made while pregnant with Henry was being released and she would be making the rounds of talk shows promoting it. Mac tried not to panic but he couldn’t help it. If anybody asked Pamela about her divorce or her kids, he had absolutely no idea what she’d say. But he did know that if she mentioned their names, he and the kids would become fodder for the paparazzi.

He’d lived his entire life with bodyguards, alarm systems and armor-plated limos. He’d thought he knew how it felt to live under lock and key, but that was nothing compared to living in a fishbowl. As the ex-husband of a movie star with custody of that movie star’s kids, protection and visibility had risen to a whole new level. Not only were his kids targets for kidnappers and extortionists because of his money, but their mother’s career could put their faces on the front page of every tabloid in the world. He’d had to go to extreme measures to protect them, and even with those measures in place he wasn’t quite sure they were safe.

“You’re thinking about that crappy wife of yours again aren’t you?”

“No.”

Mrs. P. laughed. “Right. You always scowl before a morning of fun with your daughter in the pool.” Satisfied with the temperature of the milk in Henry’s bottle, she took Henry from Mac’s arms. “You know what you need? A good woman to replace the crappy one.”

Mac laughed. “It will be a cold frosty day in hell before I trust another woman.”

Mrs. P. harrumphed as she headed for the door. “Don’t let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch.”
Lacy skipped into the room, dressed in a bright blue one-piece swimsuit. Mac lifted her into his arms. It was very easy for Mrs. P. to spout quaint sayings, quite another for Mac to heed their advice. Pamela had broken Lacy’s heart when she left. Henry would know a mother who only popped in when the spirit moved her. Mac couldn’t risk the hearts of his children a second time.

Ellie debated sliding into one of her Happy Maids uniforms. Nothing said hired help better than a bright yellow ruffled apron and a hairnet. But Mac had suggested she wear jeans and she wasn’t taking any chances. If she had to endure being a full-time maid, then she intended for Cain to get the recommendation into Carmichael Incorporated. The best way to do that would be to follow Mac’s instructions to the letter.

She slowed her car as she wound through the streets of Coral Gables looking for the address scrawled on the back of the business card. Finally finding the property, she turned onto the driveway only to be face-to-face with an iron gate. She rolled down her car window, pressed a button marked “visitors” on a small stand just within reach of her car and watched as a camera zoomed in on her. She expected a voice to come through the little box, asking for identification. Instead, within seconds, the gate opened.

Good grief. How rich was this guy?

Slowly maneuvering up the wide stone driveway that was a beautiful yellow, not brick red or brown or even gray, but beautiful butterscotch yellow, Ellie swiveled her head from side-to-side, taking in the landscaping. Trees stood behind the black iron fence that surrounded the huge front yard, increasing the privacy. Flower gardens filled with red, yellow and orange hibiscus sprang up in no particular order, brightening the green grass with splashes of color. But it was the house that caused her mouth to fall open. Butterscotch yellow stucco, with rich cocoa brown trim and columns that rose to the flat roof overhang, and a sparkling glass front door, the house was unlike anything she’d seen.

She followed the stone driveway around to the side where she found cocoa-brown garage doors and a less auspicious entryway than the front door. She parked her car and got out.

Oppressive heat and humidity buffeted her, making her tank top and jeans feel like a snowmobile suit. The sounds of someone splashing in a pool caught her attention and she walked around back and stopped. Her mouth gaped.

Rows of wide, flat steps made of the same butterscotch-colored stone as in the driveway led from a wall of French doors in the back of the house to an in-ground pool. Shiny butterscotch-colored tiles intermingled with blue and beige tiles, rimming the pool and also creating a walkway that led to a patio of the same stone as the stairs. Behind the patio was a huge gazebo – big enough for a party, not merely a yard decoration – and beyond the grassy backyard was the canal where a bright white yacht was docked.

“Ellie?”

She glanced at the pool again. Mac Carmichael was swimming with a little girl of around six, probably his daughter.

She edged toward them. Trying to sound confident she said, “Hi.”

The little blonde wearing water wings waved shyly.
Mac wiped both hands down his face and headed for the ladder in the shallow water on the far side of the pool. “I’ll be right with you.”

She wanted to say, “Take your time,” or “Don’t get out on my account. I’ll find my way to the kitchen,” but the sight of Mac pulling himself onto the ladder stopped her cold. His dark swimming trunks clung wetly to his firm behind. Water pulled them down, causing them to slip as he climbed the ladder. By the time he got out of the pool his trunks clung precariously to his lean hips. He walked to a beige-and-white-flowered chaise and grabbed a huge towel.

“You got here quickly.”

She stared. With the blue skies of Florida as a backdrop, his eyes turned a color closer to topaz. Water ran in rivulets down the black hair on his chest. His still-dripping swimming trucks hung onto his hips for dear life.

“I…um…” She cleared her throat as attraction rumbled through her. It had been so long that she’d been overwhelmingly attracted to a man that she’d missed the symptoms. But here they were. Sweaty palms. Stuttering heart. Inability to form a coherent sentence.

Now she knew why her intuition wouldn’t let her allow Mac to leave the Happy Maids office. It wasn’t because of Cain. It was because she was attracted to Mac.

Telling herself not to panic, she could handle one little attraction, she smiled. Her intuition might have brought her here for a frivolous reason, but once Ava had told her about Cain wanting an “in” with Mac, she knew she couldn’t back out. Liz had saved her when she desperately needed someone. Now she finally had a chance to repay the favor. This was a mission. “I just had to run home to put on jeans and pack a bag.”

He motioned to the steps. “You go on up. It’s too hot for you to stand out here in this heat in those jeans. As soon as I get Lacy from the pool I’ll be in.”

This time she could say, “No hurry. I’ll be fine,” because she seriously needed a minute alone to compose herself. How did one man get so lucky as to not only be rich and live in a house that took her breath away, but also be so good looking he rivaled the pristine Florida sky?

“Just go up the stairs and turn left, into the kitchen. We’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded and started up the steps, feeling as if she were walking the stairs to a museum or some other prestigious building rather than someone’s residence. Of course, she wasn’t exactly well versed in what a “normal” home should look like. She’d grown up in foster homes until she was seventeen when she ran away. Then she’d slept on the streets and fought tooth and nail just to find something to eat each day until she met Sam. She’d stayed with him, enduring increasing verbal and emotional abuse until the night the abuse became physical. Then she’d run. A Friend Indeed couldn’t take her in because they were a charity chartered to care for women with children, but Liz had offered her her couch and ultimately a job. After four years with Happy Maids, interacting with Liz and the friends she’d made through A Friend Indeed, she was only now coming to understand what normal relationships were.

So, she could forgive herself for being a tad awestruck by this house. She might clean for Miami’s elite but this guy was in a class by himself, and from the outside, his house absolutely looked like a museum.

Pushing open the second door of the four French doors lining the back wall of the house, she found herself standing between a huge kitchen on the left and a comfy family room on the right. Decorated with an overstuffed brown leather sofa and chairs with shiny cherry wood end tables and a huge flat-screen TV between bookcases that ran along the entire back wall, that part of the open floor plan appeared to be where the family did most of their living.

That she liked.

But only a few steps into the kitchen, she swallowed hard. The stove had eight burners. The refrigerator was actually hidden behind panels of the same cherry wood as the cabinets. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above the stove. Pale salmon-colored granite countertops accented the rich cabinets. A sink with a tall copper faucet sat in the middle of the center island and another sat in a counter along a far wall. Crystal gleamed behind the glass doors of all the cabinets on the right wall.

She looked around in awe. She’d been in kitchens almost as elaborate as this one. She did, after all, clean for some fairly wealthy people. But men in Mac’s caliber weren’t wealthy. They were beyond wealthy. They didn’t hire weekly cleaning services. They had full-time employees and gourmet kitchens big enough to cook food for parties attended by hundreds of people. As a Happy Maid she only cleaned, didn’t cook for any of her clients.

She glanced around again, her mouth slightly open, fear tightening her chest.

She grabbed the cell phone she had stashed in her jeans pocket and hit a speed dial number.

“Ava, I think I’m gonna need a cook book.”

***

For the rest of the book...look for it on Amazon and B&N, as an ebook!

July 2011

2011-07-01T05:29:00.000-07:00

I've run out of BABIES IN THE BOARDROOM Books to talk about in this ezine. Typically, we wouldn't have any more ezines until my next book was out in November. But we're doing so well with the POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop (only 4 more lessons) that I thought we should keep going with ezines. Surely, we can wing it with things to talk about for four issues? This way you will get the rest of the workshop in the next four months.

Okay, so what do we talk about? Well, I started a new duet for Harlequin Romance that will be out next year. I also signed a contract for a Continuity Series that will be out next year. Not sure who all the authors are who signed on for this, but I do know Melissa McClone and Myrna MacKenzie are among them.

Next month, as you will see in Coming Attractions, I'm giving JOURNEY STEPS for NEORWA (http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops). Info is below. If you're one of my writer fans, that's one of my best workshops on plotting.

But I think my most fun venture this year has been to write short stories that accompany the Andreas Brothers Series. I called these Happily Ever Afters because they happen happily after the series ends. Thirty years to be precise.

Why did I go and do something like that? Well, I wanted to show you that the Andreas Brothers' marriages lasted. And 30 years certainly proves that. LOL. But also, I wanted to have the chance to write about the romances of the BABIES from the Babies in the Boardroom.

You know, this is a wonderful time in history to be a writer. With the Internet, and my own website, I can pretty much write what I want to write and post it somewhere. (Laughing again.) But that also means I can let my creativity sort of roam and ramble. I won't get paid for these, unless I decide to put them up on Amazon and B&N and Smashwords. So while they're free on my website they are a gift to my fans.

Also, some fans wanted me to actually write about Darius, Nick and Cade ten years into the future, which might have been fun, but I simply itched to write the stories of the Babies in the Boardroom.

Especially Gino's story. Now, imagine this: You're filthy rich because your dad left you one-sixth of a shipping conglomerate. The rest is owned by your half-brothers. The only problem is your half brothers are thirty years older than you are. And one of them raised you as his son.

From the time he was in diapers, Gino has been groomed to take over the family's shipping empire. Oh, he's had his fun. The kid was raised in the lap of luxury. His "main home" is in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the world. He has a half-brother who owns oil companies and a ranch. He has another half brother who lives on the beach in North Carolina. He's been all over the world. Had every kind of fun you can imagine from yachts to gambling. He's got looks and money and will soon have power.

So what would this kid be like at thirty? And who would he marry?

Those questions tickled my fancy enough to write something I wouldn't get paid for! That's curosity!

So to keep with our format, I've posted an excerpt from GINO MEETS HIS MATCH below. You can simply click the link to get to the actual story on my website. Lesson 5 from the POWER OF QUESTIONS is next up in the ezine. The COMING ATTRACTIONS section lists more info about JOURNEY STEPS and PREPPING FOR NANO. There's a Cat Tail. And I decided to go back in time and give you an excerpt from one of my older titles. Still a Harlequin Romance. I don't think my old Silhouette Romance back list has been digitized yet. So we'll stick with the HR's.

So happy July! I hope you have a vacation planned or at least a fun Fourth of July party. Me? I'm slaving away, working on the first book in what I'm calling my MONTGOMERY MOGULS duet. (But my family's having a 3rd of July party, I'm going to an amusement park on the 4th and there may be a beach adventure at the end of the month...good stuff for me!)

Enjoy lesson 5 and GINO MEETS HIS MATCH.

See you in August.

susan

FOR THE WRITERS AMONG US

THE POWER OF QUESTIONS Lesson 5

Lesson 5: The ‘other’ side of questions…Using questions to get you out of trouble.

We’ve gone over core story question and reader question and scene questions that keep your action/reaction/decision train going. So now we’re going to talk about the other side of questions. Using them to make your work better. Your plots sharper, tighter. Your characters’ goals, motivations and conflicts fresh and unique.

But before I say a word, we're going to do an experiment. Right now, everybody get out a piece of paper and a pen and write down twenty reasons a father would NOT go looking for his beloved daughter when she runs away.

You have one minute. Write as many reasons as you can. Stop at twenty or when the time runs out. Go. (I’ll hum the Jeopardy music twice while you write.)

Okay…if you’re reading this that means you are done with the exercise. If you didn’t do it, stop now, give yourself a minute and do it! Seriously, you’ll be glad you did! Take one minute and try to write out twenty answers to that question.

If you did the exercise, I now want you to take the bottom or back of that sheet and write down twenty reasons why a FATHER would NOT GO AFTER his PREGNANT DAUGHTER when she runs away from home.

One minute.
Jeopardy music.
Jeopardy music.

Time.

Okay, sorry, but one more time, somewhere on that sheet write 20 reasons why a KING would NOT go after his PRINCESS DAUGHTER who is PREGANT WITH THE NEXT HEIR TO HIS COUNTRY’S THRONE when she runs away.

One minute. Jeopardy music. Jeopardy music. Time.

Right about now, you should notice you have 3 similar lists, but each list became more specific as the question became more specific.

What we just did is the list of twenty. Decades ago Andrew Carnegie commissioned an "efficiency expert" to spend some time with him. He told the man (Ira something…sorry…most important guy in the story and I can't remember his name…) Anyway, Carnegie told Ira, if at the end of the time they spent together he could give Carnegie 1 idea that revolutionized his life he would pay him a million dollars. (A tidy sum at the time.) Ira said, you're on.

They spent the time together (either a week or a month) and at the end of it, Carnegie said, Well, what's your suggestion to revolutionize my life and Ira said, "Every time you have a problem, rather than coming up with a solution, trying it, possibly failing, spending time to come up with another potential solution and trying again, and potentially failing again, and taking time to think of a third potential solution, trying it and again potentially failing, and again spending time to come up with another solution…Write your problem on the top of a piece of paper and write out twenty potential solutions to the problem. Don't stop. Don't say hey this one is the right one. Don't monitor. Write everything from the ridiculous to the sublime. Keep going until you have twenty. Then….choose the BEST ANSWER and try that one."

Ira didn't merely make this recommendation because he wanted Carnegie to sift through all the possibilities in order to come up with the "right" idea, so he and his team would make fewer mistakes. Ira wanted Carnegie and his people to push themselves beyond one potential solution and even ten potential solutions so that they would release their creative energy and come up with some revolutionary ideas. Things they might not have thought of with the trial and error method. (Because by then frustration would have set in!)

I heard this story on a tape by motivational speaker Brian Tracy (tapes available through Nightengale Conant). Tracy explained that using this system to find solutions to your problems will revolutionize your job not just because you come up with the right idea or even something you might not have thought of; but also because it shows you wonderful things…like how doing the opposite of what you're doing now might be the answer.

But, if you’ve been paying attention, you also have probably noticed that for this system to be really successful, you must come up with a great question.

Remember those three lists we made? Each time we refined the question our answers got a bit more specific.

And that's the real power of the list of 20.

Not only did the very specific question "control" the answers that we got so that we weren’t all over the board; but also the very specific questions got us very specific answers.

The broad and general list-of-20 question is okay when you're working on your synopsis, but you need a more specific question when you have a specific problem you must solve for your story to work.

Let's take another look at the 3 lists you wrote when this lesson started.

In the first list…why wouldn't a dad go after his daughter when she runs away? You probably had reasons like…He didn't know she'd run away. You may have said, she lied and told him she was with a friend for the weekend to give herself a head start.

On the second list…The one that answers the question why doesn’t a dad go after his PREGNANT daughter when she runs away…You may have had answers like: She's an adult. She had a right to "run away" if she wanted. Because the word pregnant changed your perception of who the "runaway" was. You may have said: He didn't go after her because he assumed she was running to the baby's father. (Intimating that the dad believed that was where she belonged.) Which, again, potentially changed something big for the story.

But in the last question when I said, why wouldn't a king go after his daughter who is pregnant with the next heir to the throne… then we not only had a more defined story, we also had a more difficult time coming up with answers.

We had boundaries. Our answers had to fit.

That doesn't seem like fun. Having the sky as the limit is a lot easier. But typically the sky isn't the limit. The more specific the question, the more specific the answer and the more often that answer will work!

I actually did this a few years ago when my editor called and told me my book was going to print, but she’d found a hole in the plot and I had 24 hours to solve it. Oh, and the answer couldn’t be more than one sentence.

Yikes!

After working with two vague questions, I made the question very specific and in 8 tries, I answered my question. Not merely satisfactorily, but with something that was smooth and efficient. Something most readers would read and believe without the blink of an eye!

The gist of the story in PRINCE BABY is that a pregnant princess ran away from her father, the king of a small island county. She ran away to see the man who had gotten her pregnant because she didn't feel it was fair that he didn’t know he was about to be a father. When she gets to the hero’s house, she goes into labor and the hero delivers the baby. But she can’t travel across the Atlantic for a few weeks, so he persuades her to live with him (with the baby) until she’s able to travel. And, of course, they fall in love. (I do write romance! LOL)

When I turned in the completed manuscript, my editor was thrilled with the book, but a few weeks later she made that phone call telling me that she kept stumbling over why the princess’s dad doesn't follow her. I mean, after all, she's pregnant with the country's next heir. He might not be able to stop her from running, but why wouldn't he run after her? Would a king really let his daughter stay in America with the peasant who got her pregnant?

It was a problem! And all I had room for was about 2 sentences of explanation. One sentence would work better … So after two tries with vague questions that didn’t net me any results I did a third list.

With a better question…

Why would a king let his daughter who is pregnant with the heir to his country's throne leave the country AND not go after her for the six weeks she needs to fall in love with the hero?

It’s a cumbersome, weird question I know, but note that it took in lots of background information, in order to get and keep my brain going in the right direction! The question had to take in a lot of information because the answer had to "fit" certain circumstances. Which means that the more "tightly" your answer has to fit, the more specific your question has to be.

So how did my list turn out?

My answers were something like this:

She sneaks out of the country and the king can't find her.
He doesn't know she's gone.
He's afraid if he chases her to the United States the press will discover the future king was conceived out of wedlock and his PR people won't have time to "spin" it. (NOTE: This one is good, but not quite complete. It frustrated me…so I walked away, glanced at the newspaper and saw Bono doing something and voila…number four was born.)
The king can't chase his daughter because he's touring with U-2.
He's at Michael Jackson's trial. (Still reading the paper…)
He's a juror.
He's somewhere that he can't leave.
He's the head of his country…so when parliament is in session, he must be there! And if he leaves mid-session, the press will know something is horribly wrong and they will discover the future king was born out of wedlock and his PR people won't be able to spin it!

Notice how walking away and reading the newspaper really shifted my thoughts, but also notice how shifting my thoughts in another direction ultimately ended up uncovering the key I was missing for my story!

I combined #3 and #8 and came up with something that I could say in one sentence. I didn't even need the two sentences I was allowed…LOL.

But -- just as an aside here. Notice how the power of the ridiculous came to my aid. Walking away and reading the paper jumpstarted my brain, but the ridiculous answer I created was what really got me going in the right direction. Touring with U-2 wouldn't work in a million years. I also couldn't use "The king was at the Michael Jackson trial," but both of those led me to number 7…He's somewhere that he can't leave. And that led me to number 8.

(As another aside…I don't generally stop at 8. If I hadn't been on deadline I would have gone on and I might have come up with a better answer.)

So that's a quick and dirty explanation of the List of 20. Really a remarkable tool. Next month, Lesson 6 goes into a detailed explanation of how to use this tool to help in all aspects of your writing process from synopsis to problem solving. So come back next month!

For your homework? Using your current work in progress, create a question for a problem that’s bedeviling you.

susan

COMING ATTRACTIONS

August

Journey Steps. NEORWA
http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere Ever wonder what you’re supposed to “put” in between those four or five turning points of your story? Susan Meier’s Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere provides quick, easy solutions for any author who has ever wondered “now what?” Topics include the “magic formula” for plotting, the list of five, explanation of plot threads versus subplot and tricks for writing an “edge-of-the-seat” read. Learn to tell your story in one straight-forward paragraph that can be used for pitches! Beginners, intermediate and experienced authors will benefit from this workshop.

Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com

COURSE DESCRIPTION:

Everybody believes NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, which runs every November at www.nanowrimo.org) is a race against the clock, a fight with procrastination and inertia. In some ways it is. But once you’re in the thick of things, you’ll discover NaNo is really all about ideas. Writers don’t stall because they’re lazy. Writers stall because they don’t know what to write next.

The month BEFORE NaNo, get proven tips from Susan Meier—the author of almost 50 books for Harlequin and Silhouette—and let her take you through several different ways to examine the story you want to write, to capture the natural scene possibilities within your idea, to generate new ideas, and to push yourself through the most grueling, but fun, month you will spend this year! Lessons include:

* The List of 20 (How to generate ideas quickly so you have little downtime when your natural ideas run out)

* Turning a “Want” into “Need” (How does knowing why you’re writing this book provide you with both energy to write and ideas for your story?)

* The One-Paragraph Story Summary (Say it succinctly…3 kinds of one-paragraph story summaries: back cover blurb, core story question, and growth paragraph)

* Could, Might, Must and Should List (How to capture ideas that spring up naturally)

* Storyboard Versus Synopsis (Breaking your idea down into manageable bites)

* The Psychology of Pushing through the Hard Times (What to do when you get stuck)

* The Psychology of a Draft (Push, push, push!)

* What Are You Doing in December? (Editing tips)

TESTIMONIALS:

“I was bowled over by how helpful it was. Susan was ever patient and ready to offer feedback and encouragement. The course material was broken down so that it was easy to understand but it pushed me to dig deeper and really understand my story. I would not hesitate to recommend this course in the future or any course with Susan Meier.”

- SGM

Fantasy writer

“Susan Meier generously shares her knowledge and shapes it to fit your needs. She is enthusiastic and encouraging. This course helped me to fill in the gaps, taking my plot from mundane to magnificent! Thanks, Susan!”

- JBS

Cat Tails

So what are Sophia and Fluffy up to this summer?

Interestly, my daughter Sarah moved into her own apartment this year! Yay! (I think she was getting sick of us.) Because her roomie already has two cats, she left Fluffy behind. This was fine with us, but we worried about Fat Fluff because he adores Sarah. But surprisingly he hasn't been half bad. In fact, without Sarah around he's amazingly social. Every night we now have what my DH and I like to refer to as the Every Night Fight. Fluffy comes downstairs, swats Sophie across the head and the fight is on.

I read somewhere that cats see fighting with their companions as exercise. Well, Fat Fluff may not be Fat Fluff much longer if this keeps up! LOL

GINO MEETS HIS MATCH

When Gino Andreas entered the executive offices for Andreas Holdings, a hush fell over the gleaming corridors.

In her office at the end of the hall, Bethany Johnson watched the men he passed all but scrape and bow. Gino was thirty now, about to take his seat on the board of directors with his three half brothers, Darius, Nick and Cade. Everyone anticipated that within five years, the older Andreas brothers would retire early and enjoy their golden years on the French Rivera with their adoring wives.

And Gino would rule.

The women of Andreas Holdings weren’t quite so pragmatic. Even those climbing the corporate ladder, hoping to serve as presidents or vice presidents, had privately admitted to Bethany that their breath stuttered a bit when Gino walked by. Tall and slender like his oldest half-brother Darius, with Nick’s sense of fun and Cade’s shrewd dark eyes, Gino wasn’t just sex appeal in a suit. He was smart and funny. There wasn’t one unattached female in Andreas Holdings who wouldn’t give her next Christmas bonus for the opportunity to find out what he’d be like in bed.

Except Bethany.

Not because she didn’t think Gino was hot. For Pete’s sake, the guy exuded sex appeal. Add a little money and power to that, and some days she honestly thought she would drool. The thing of it was Bethany was broke. No one had told her living in New York City would be so expensive or that roommates could bolt the first time they fell in love and decided it was time to live with their fiancés. She had bigger, more important things on her mind than somebody’s hotness.

“Good morning, Ms. Johnson.”

Deep and sexy, Gino’s voice drifted to her and Bethany’s lungs shivered. If he could patent that voice, he’d be even richer than he already was.

“Good morning, Mr. Andreas.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“Just that your brothers are waiting for you in the conference room.”

Halfway to his office, he stopped, turned. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. They called an emergency meeting of the board an hour ago.”

Hands on his hips, he glanced skyward as if seeking help from above. “There is no emergency. They just want me to be late for my first board meeting so they can harass me.”

She laughed. “Probably Nick’s idea.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Their easy camaraderie warmed her heart. She was only a floater – someone who filled in wherever administrative assistance was needed. Gino’s real personal secretary made oodles of cash. But when they’d offered her the job of standing in for Roberta while she took maternity leave, Bethany had seen it as a good sign that one of “the” Andreas brothers liked her. Her goal was to do such a good job for Gino that he would give her a good recommendation, so she’d be moved into one of the permanent assistant positions and actually be able to make her rent.

She just had to keep her lease for the next six months.

***

Gino left Bethany’s office and headed toward the big boardroom just off Darius’s executive suite. Though he knew he should probably be wondering what the hell his brothers would spring on him, he found himself shaking his head over Bethany’s hair.

A ponytail. In an office. It made him laugh.

Actually, it made him comfortable. Roberta, a tall gorgeous redhead whose husband would kill anybody who took more than a three-second glance at her, had been coolly efficient. He’d never had to worry about missing a meeting – even a trumped up meeting his brothers had decided to have for sport – because with her layers and layers of friends within the corporate maze that was Andreas Holdings, Roberta would have heard about it.

But Roberta didn’t make him laugh. She most certainly didn’t make him comfortable. And the truth was he was smarter and more efficient when he was comfortable.

So in some ways he was glad Roberta was off for the first six months he would serve on the board. He didn’t need somebody to prop him up, to help him, to make him look smarter. He was smart enough. He needed someone who helped him relax.

Whatever he had to do over the next six months to keep Bethany Johnson right where she was, he intended to do it.

“So you finally made it.”

Walking into the boardroom, Gino glanced at his three older brothers. Though the Andreas men had different mothers, they shared dark hair and dark eyes. Darius, the brother he called Dad because he and his wife Whitney had adopted him, was the tallest. Nick with unruly curly hair was the handsomest. Cade the shrewdest. It showed in the way his nearly black eyes narrowed every time he came against something he didn’t like.

Nick guided Gino to the chair at the foot of the table. “Thirty years. You’re the only brother who had to wait to get his seat on the board.”

“Yeah, because you guys changed the rules.”

Darius laughed. “After our father’s will gave you – as an infant – an equal share in the company, which came with a seat on the board, we recognized the flaw in not having guidelines for directors.” He pulled out Gino’s chair. “So we wrote some. That’s the fun of being boss. Find something you don’t like, you change it.”

More or less forced into his seat, Gino sat.

Cade strode over. Dressed in a suit and tie, he looked like the billionaire he was, but he didn’t really look like himself. A rancher first and foremost, he typically dressed in jeans and T-shirts. “And don’t think because you’re on the board, we’re going to listen to hair-brained schemes. You’re the newbee. You watch and learn.”

“I’ve been watching and learning for thirty years.”

All three laughed. Taking his seat at the head of the table, Darius said, “You haven’t seen anything of life yet.”

And that was the problem. He’d been raised in the lap of luxury, as Darius’s son, because their father and Gino’s mom had been killed in an accident. He’d never really encountered a problem, didn’t know what it was like to be hungry or cold. Didn’t know a damned thing about struggle.

Darius hit the gavel and brought the room to order, which basically meant Nick and Cade took their seats.

But a board meeting, even for a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate, turned out to be a very dry discussion of business. Not that he didn’t care. He did. One day the responsibility for Andrea Holdings, a huge, multi-national enterprise would be his.

But could he take the reins of a multi-national conglomerate without really understanding the things that most normal people knew? Cade, Nick and Darius hadn’t grown up wealthy. Though Stephone Andreas had acknowledged Darius, he’d basically been raised by a struggling single mom, as Nick and Cade had been. The things they’d learned through their struggles growing up gave them insights into life and people that Gino didn’t have. He didn’t know about the blood, sweat, tears and trouble that had gone into making Andreas Holdings great. He simply knew great. And he also knew that wouldn’t serve him well as a leader.

***

When Bethany arrived home, there was an eviction notice in her mail slot. She leaned against the row of post office boxes and slid down to the floor. She was a few days late! A few days! Surely the building manager couldn’t evict her yet.

But when she took her notice to his office in the basement, he grinned at her around his cigar.

“Yeah, I can evict you.” He took the cigar out of his mouth and blew smoke at her. “We’re not exactly the classiest building in the city and our renters aren’t the cream of the crop, so our lease is a little different than most. You should have read the fine print. If you’re as much as two days late I can start the process.”

“I’ll have the rent money on Friday.”

“Yeah, sure, babe. I get that. But without a roommate you’re going to have trouble every month until pretty soon you’ll be weeks behind and soon after that months.” He guided her to the door. “Only way I take this off the books is if you come to me with a new roommate and prove you can pay your rent.”

Suddenly she was in the hall and his door was slamming behind her.

She straightened her shoulders. Okay. Fine. He wanted her to have a roommate. She’d find a roommate.

Click the link below to read the rest of the story...I think Michael and Lucy pop up first...so scroll down to Gino Meets His Match.

http://susanmeier-happilyeverafter.blogspot.com/

And now...a blast from the past! A little bit from MAID IN MONTANA

Jeb Worthington watched the aging sport utility vehicle chug up the tree-lined road leading to his ranch. He pulled on his horse's reins, stopping Jezebel, and reached for his small binoculars.

Yep. Just as he suspected. His new housekeeper, Sophie Penazzi, had arrived.

Adjusting the glasses, he watched her get out of the car, taking in her straight, shoulder-length brown hair that, if he remembered correctly, was a color almost identical to the dark brown of her eyes.

She stretched, working the kinds of out her back and shoulders from the long drive. The smooth, even tan of her skin brought visions of her in a bikini, rushing into the crashing waves of the Pacific, surfboard under her arm. It didn't surprise him that he'd envision her that way. Not only did her resume list her home as Malibu, but also there was a part of him that would pay very good money to see her perfect bottom in a bikini.

He dropped the glasses to his thigh. Those were exactly the kinds of things he could not -- would not -- think about about his new housekeeper. He'd lost the last one because she'd made a pass at him and he'd fired her. But instead of admitting she'd been let go because she'd tried to use her position as a springboard to becoming mistress of the house, Maria had promptly gone into town and trashed his reputation, claiming she'd quit because he was a grouch, too difficult to work for. The only way he'd recoup his standing with the locals would be to be nice to this new housekeeper, proving Maria had lied.

But being nice came with trouble of its own. Or maybe better said: Being nice to a live-in employee came with rules of its own. A line had to be drawn. He didn't want to be accused of sexual harrassment or even flirting. And he wouldn't. He would find a middle ground.

He nudged Jezebel, urging her to increase her pace.

Sophie bent into the rear compartment of her SUV. After setting several suitcases on the ground behind her vehicle, she lifted out an odd looking thing covered in net, at least four feet long and flat as a pancake. From the brackets on the side, he suspected that whatever it was, it was folded up. God only knew what it became when she unfolded it.

Once again, he nudged Jezebel, this time increasing her walk to a trot.

Adjusting the glasses so he could watch her as he rode, he saw Sophie slam the rear hatch, open the back door and bend inside.

There was more?

She pulled out a small seat and what looked to be a cooler and Jeb took Jezebel to a full gallop. What the hell was this woman doing? Planning to take over a wing in his house? Sure, she had to live with him, but he remembered telling her that her quarters were a bedroom, sitting room and bathroom. She didn't get to spread out all over his home.

He galloped past the outbuildings and barn, slowing Jezebel when they neared the driveway and taking her down to a walk when the reached the pavement.

Obviously hearing the clip-clop of Jez's approach, Sophie turned around. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up at him and called, "Hey! Good morning!"

Her bright brown eyes shone with joy, accenting her pert little nose, wide smile and nicely defined chin. Her should have kept his eyes on her face, but the blue top clinging to her breasts and the jeans outlining her perfect bottom drew his gaze downward until he'd taken in every feminine inch of her.

Irritated with himself, he nearly cursed. Why had he hired someone so cute?

A glance at her mountain of gear only increased his ire. Obviously she was all wrong for this job. He reined Jez a few feet ahead of the car, and growled, "What are you--"

Too late. Sophie ducked into her back seat again and he stopped talking. Not only was she providing him with a jaw-dropping view of her backside, but also there was little sense talking when his conversation partner couldn't hear him.

He waited patiently, ready to ask her just how much junk she thought she could get into a small suite of rooms, but when she pulled out of the back seat, baby in her arms, the words he'd intended to say fell out of his head. He was -- for the first time ever -- speechless.

She smiled at him. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

He stared at her. Then the baby. The kid was small but chubby. Healthy. With pink cheeks and a thatch of thick black hair that poked out in all directions.

The only thing that came out of his mouth was, "What are you doing?"

She frowned. "You said to move in. Today. So I can start working tomorrow. Did I misread your instructions?"

"Apparently! Since I don't remember telling you to bring a baby!"

"Oh!" She laughed. "This is my son, Brady." She kissed the little boy's cheek. "Say hello, Brady."

The baby cooed and gooed and Jeb's heart stuttered in his chest. Willing back the swell of emotions that threatened to overtake him, he simply said, "You can't have a baby here."

Sophie kissed the baby's cheek again. "Why not? The agency said it wasn't a problem."

"The employment agency told you that you could bring him?"

"Yes, when they explained that this job was for a live-in housekeeper, I told them about Brady and they said it was no problem for me to bring him."

"I gave them the exact opposite instructions! I said no kids." Somebody's head was going to roll.

That's the beginning of MAID IN MONTANA...if you likie...go to Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble.com and get one of the older copies...or maybe digital if you have a Kindle.

That's all for this month! See you in August for Lesson 6 and another Andreas tie in.

BOARDROOM BABIES WINNER

2011-06-06T07:07:00.001-07:00

Because we had a little trouble with Blogger last week, I allowed people to email me through my website and I added those names into the drawing.

So...the winner of the BABIES IN THE BOARDROOM series is...drum roll...

SUSAN LEECH!

Susan, contact me through the contact button on susanmeier.com to provide me with your addy to mail the books

Congrats and thanks to everyone who entered.

susan

Contest

2011-06-01T16:12:00.001-07:00

Blogger is acting up a bit. If you cannot post a comment at the bottom of the ezine below...send me an email through to the CONTACT SUSAN button on the right and let me know you tried to post, but couldn't and want to be entered in the contest for the Babies in the Boardroom series.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

(Keep scrolling down for the ezine.)

susan

June 2011

2011-06-01T03:41:00.000-07:00

Winner of the three books in the BABIES IN THE BOARDROOM series, THE BABY PROJECT, SECOND CHANCE BABY and BABY ON THE RANCH, will be drawn on Monday, June 6.

Don't forget to comment to be entered in the drawing.

Happy June!

I have to admit I'm excited about this month's book, BABY AT THE RANCH, not just because it's the end of a series that I loved writing, a series I'm very proud of as an artist, but because it's my 45TH BOOK for Harlequin and Silhouette!

I'm marching toward 50 books. I can't even explain how exciting that is for me, except to say that thinking about how close I am caused me to remember the beginnings of my career and I, literally, want to fall down on my knees and thank my Maker because I never would have made it this far without some help From Above!

And help from a lot of wonderful editors and an agent or two. Not to mention my friend Denise who talks through my story ideas before I propose them to editorial, and my friends Deb and Jenna who brainstorm with me.

I also wouldn't have made it without lots of very loyal readers. I couldn't do this without you. Not just because the only way I get paid is if you buy my books, but also because I love the fan mail. I love the encouragement. I love that you love what I do.

So thank you.

My respect and appreciation for you is why I've begun posting Happily Ever Afters for my books, as well as little prequils in the What Came Before section. Additional material to the stories is my way of saying Thanks!

I think you're really going to like the ending to the Andreas Brothers saga, BABY AT THE RANCH. Suzanne Caldwell is a former spoiled socialite, who suddenly finds herself flat broke when her beloved grandmother dies. She's also a single mom, having gotten taken in by somebody who was only out for her gram's money. Everybody's surprised to discover her gram had somehow lost over a hundred million dollars and now Suzanne only has her shares of Andreas Holdings Stocks to somehow make a life.

But Andreas Holdings has been on the skids, so she can't sell it. No one wants it. Darius, Nick and Cade know the company is coming back...but they don't quite have the money yet to buy her stock.

So Nick and Darius, who have more than pulled their weight for the company since their father's death, tell Cade it's his time to step up and do right by the family.

Which would be cool, except Cade is unreasonably attracted to Suzanne. The book is funny, yet poignant. Cade's a widower who wasn't there when his wife passed. He feels guilty, and sort of angry because he believes all his life plans died with her. And along comes Suzanne. Full of energy and what my mother used to call piss and vinegar. She's dead set determined to give her baby a good life. She's learned from her mistakes and is willing to work hard and she doesn't take anyone's crap. She's more than a match for sometimes moody, usually bossy Cade!

I have to admit, I cried so hard when I proofread this thing that I couldn't really read the epilogue. LOL! If there are typos, that's why!

So enjoy BABY ON THE RANCH. If you missed the first two books in the series, they're on Amazon and Borders.com. This is a fun family you don't want to miss!

And go to susanmeier.com. Read the free stories in the What Came Before and Happily Ever After segments. Take a peek at the recipes. Do the workshops!

It's all free.

susan

For the Writers Among Us

Lesson 4 Scene Question

So what's the scene/chapter question?

Again, the scene/chapter question is for you, the writer.

Simply put, every scene must have a point. Each must be a step in the characters’ journeys. So -- if you want to be a smarty pants-- you could say every scene begins with the question…What's the point of this scene?

But we don't have to be smarty pants. Once we open our story with an inciting incident -- an action, if you will – there will be a reaction. And once there is a reaction, someone will make a decision and once someone makes a decision they will take another action and the whole thing starts all over again.

So, your scene questions will frequently be things like:

Now that the dam has burst [action] and everyone is running for his or her life [reaction], what decision could the protagonist make to save himself?

Or, if you take the action, reaction, decision example that I use in most of my workshops –

There's a fire in the barn.
The horses die.
The hero decides he's had enough
He leaves town.

You next chapter/scene question could be what does he find when he leaves town? Because that character’s next scene should be a reaction or a consequence. Leaving town was an action. So your next scene would be a reaction or consequence.

If you’re writing a category romance, everything that happens in the book (with a few exceptions for lines that allow the POV of secondary characters) needs to relate back to the hero and heroine. So you can drive the action/reaction/decision train the whole way through your book, bouncing back and forth between those two characters. Easy stuff. The hero takes an action, what will the heroine’s reaction be?

If you’re writing a single title (a bigger, standalone book like mainstream, thriller, suspense, women’s fiction, sci fi, paranormal), however, you will have other character POVs coming into play. The hero could take an action that results in a reaction from a secondary character. A secondary character (a villain for instance) could take lots of actions that jerk the hero and heroine and other characters around for the entire book.

Either way, you should have an action, reaction, decision train for each story thread. (Note that I don’t call them subplots. Very few books have true subplots in them anymore. Don’t get me started! LOL)

My point is that unless you’re writing a category romance or straight mystery or simple science fiction you will have a main story…say your hero is struggling to keep his ranch solvent for the final few months he has before he can sell his prize stallion and make a mint.

Before he can do this, his barn catches fire. He thinks the neighbor did it. So he gets a gun, goes to the neighbor and threatens him. The neighbor gets rid of him without bloodshed, but then we switch to the neighbor’s POV, when he goes into his house and calls the Sheriff. The sheriff promises to settle Jake (that’s a good rancher name) down. He hangs up with the neighbor and calls the hero’s ex-wife, the only person who’s ever been able to talk sense into him and gets her to promise to come back to Texas and get him through this. Then he hangs up the phone and calls someone else…this time he says, Okay, I set the fire in the barn. The horses are dead. Jake thinks it was the neighbor. I called his ex-wife to get her home to talk him into selling the ranch to you but now I’m out of it. And the villain says, “You’re out of it when I say you’re out of it.” Then hangs up the phone.

What just happened there? We have one story, which revolves around the fact that the villain wants the hero’s ranch. But it branched out to include the hero’s ex-wife and a romance, the sheriff being blackmailed by the unseen villain who wants the ranch, there’s some kind of 'thing' with the neighbor…a feud, maybe…and we have the sheriff’s past. What the heck has he done that he can be blackmailed for?

But it all relates back to the story of the villain wanting the hero’s ranch.

Okay, with all that going on you’re going to have action/reaction/decision sequences bouncing back and forth between characters.

And, to keep it simple, your scene question is probably going to be…Who should take this action…and what will the action be? Who will have the reaction…and what will the reaction be? Who should be making a decision…and what will that decision be? Who should be taking the resultant action?

That’s pretty simple, basic stuff. But it is a very quick, easy way to not just figure out what you next scene should be, but also to figure out the best character to take the action, have the reaction, make the decision, take the action.

If you’re getting rejections that say your book was disjointed…it might be because you have the wrong character front and center in the scene or maybe you’re not following the action/reaction/decision sequence.

If you’re getting rejections that say your book was episodic, you’re definitely not following the action/reaction/decision sequence.

But to get back to the purpose of our lesson…the scene question…the scene question really is that simple. Don’t make it harder than it has to be, but think it through…Really … Who should be taking the action, having the reaction, making the decision…and what should that action/reaction or decision be?

Piece of cake. That question can not only make your book more interesting, but by default it will keep you from making tons of plotting and pacing mistakes!

Now for those of you who write books (like fantasy) that seem to have plots running side-by-side that ultimately join, who don’t want to use action/reaction/decision to connect the two plots until you have to, you still have to use action/reaction and decision. You will simply have two (or 3 or however many) plots or action/reaction/decision threads running parallel until they join.

Make sense?

Your assignment?

Read the first three chapters of your manuscript. (Or the last manuscript you worked on.) Do you employ action/reaction and decision? (Lots of people do this naturally!)

If you don’t find an action/reaction/decision sequence…is your pacing off? Does your book have a disjointed feel? Is it slow? Boring? (Ouch!) Unfocused?

If you’re one of those people with parallel plots that aren’t supposed to join yet…Do you have separate action/reaction/decision sequences that keep each individual thread of the story tight and focused?

susan meier
BABY AT THE RANCH, June 2011, part of the Baby in the Boardroom mini-series for Harlequin Romance

Coming Attractions
August

Journey Steps. NEORWA
http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere Ever wonder what you’re supposed to “put” in between those four or five turning points of your story? Susan Meier’s Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere provides quick, easy solutions for any author who has ever wondered “now what?” Topics include the “magic formula” for plotting, the list of five, explanation of plot threads versus subplot and tricks for writing an “edge-of-the-seat” read. Learn to tell your story in one straight-forward paragraph that can be used for pitches! Beginners, intermediate and experienced authors will benefit from this workshop.

Coming in October PREPARING FOR NANO at Pennwriters.com

Cat Tails

Well, it's summer and my famous felines are finally outside again. But now we prepare for the fear of every hot month here in PA...that Sophie will gift us with our own private chimpmunk. That's right, folks. At no cost to me, my sweet Sophie will herd any number of critters into my house and give them homes under my sofa. I once had a chimpmunk skitter up one arm, across my shoulders and down the other arm, when I sat in the recliner with my morning coffee.

So that scream you hear will probably be me!

Excerpt from BABY AT THE RANCH

Chapter 1

Suzanne Caldwell shoved against the spot in the door of Amanda Mae’s Old West Diner where the “waitress wanted” sign filled the glass. The scent of fresh apple pie greeted her, along with a rush of noise.

Though there were no more than ten people at the counter and in the booths, the place was as rowdy as a party. Women wearing jeans and tank tops sat with men dressed in jeans, T-shirts and cowboy hats. She didn’t get two steps into the room before the noise level began to drop. As if noticing the stranger, people stopped talking mid-sentence.

She clutched her six-month-old baby, Mitzi. There was nothing like walking into a roomful of staring strangers to make you realize how alone you were in the world.

And she was definitely alone. She’d run out of gas about a mile out of Whiskey Springs, Texas, and, literally, had no one to call for help.

No family. Her grandmother had died six months ago and her mom had died when Suzanne was six. Her dad, whoever he was, had never acknowledged her.

Her mom and grandmother were both only children so she had no aunts, no uncles, no cousins.

And no friends. The wonderful sorority sisters who’d vowed to be her ally for life had dumped her when she got pregnant by a popular university professor. It was her fault, they’d said, and had accused her of trying to ruin Bill Baker’s career. As if. The guy had gone on a campaign to seduce her and had wormed his way into her life because of her grandmother’s fortune. When Martha Caldwell made some major mistakes in money management and lost the bulk of her wealth, Professor Baker suddenly didn’t want to see her anymore. And he most certainly wanted no part of their baby.

So, yeah. She was alone. Alone. Broke. Desperate to make a home for herself and her baby. And she’d left Atlanta bound for Whiskey Springs hoping to find some help.

But after walking the last mile on a hot June day, her heels thumped in her black stiletto boots. Mitzi squirmed in her arms. Her heavy diaper bag was dislocating her shoulder. Still, she kept her head high as she made her way to the first empty booth. By the time she got there, the diner was dead silent.

A waitress shuffled over. “Help you?”

She cleared her throat. “I’d like a piece of the apple pie I can smell, a cup of coffee, a glass of milk and some pudding, please.”

“What kind of pudding?”

She swallowed. Not one person had turned back to his or her coffee or food. They just stared as if she were a zombie or vampire or some other mythical creature they’d never seen before. “What kind do you have?”

“Vanilla or chocolate.”

“Mitzi loves vanilla.”

Without so much as a word of acknowledgement, the waitress scurried away.

“You’re not from around here.”

Knowing the man could only be talking to her, she followed the voice and found herself staring into a pair of the shrewdest eyes she’d ever seen. Cool, calculating, so black the pupils were almost invisible, his eyes never blinked, never waivered as they held her gaze.

Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore.

“No, I’m not from around here.”

“What’s your business?”

“None of yours.” She turned away from the penetrating, unsettling eyes and shifted Mitzi on her lap.

To her horror, the man walked over and plopped down on the bench seat across from hers. His full lips pulled upward into a devilish smile. His dark eyes danced with pleasure. “Now, see. That’s not just a bad attitude; it’s also wrong.”

She should have been scared to death. He was big. Not fat, but tall and broad-shouldered. The kind of guy who could snap a little five-foot-five girl like her in two. But instead of fear, a very unladylike shiver of lust rippled down her spine.

“Everything that happens in Whiskey Springs is my business because this is my town.”

Not at all happy with herself for even having two seconds of attraction to an ill-mannered stranger, she said, “Your town? What are you, the sheriff?”

He chuckled. The people at the counter and in the booths around them also laughed.

“No. I’m Cade Andreas. I own this town. I bought all the buildings last year. I lease the businesses back to their proprietors, but I still own every square inch, including the one you’re sitting on.”

Oh, good God. This was Cade Andreas?

Fear and confusion immediately replaced attraction. Wasn’t the Andreas family broke?

She owned one-third of Andreas Holdings stock and hadn’t been able to sell it because the company was on the skids. What was he doing buying a town?

“And I’d like to know what brings you to my town.”

She raised her gaze to his face. A day-old growth of beard covered his chin and cheeks, giving him a sexily disreputable look. His lips were full, firm, kissable. His nose had been broken – undoubtedly in a fight – but it wasn’t disfigured, more like masculine. Definitely not dainty. There was nothing dainty about this man. He was all male. One-hundred percent, grade A, prime specimen sexy.

Finally, their eyes connected. Her chest tightened. Her breathing stalled. She could have blamed that on her unwitting attraction, but refused. A guy who bought a town had to be more than a little arrogant. Definitely past vain. Maybe even beyond narcissistic. And she’d learned her lesson about narcissistic men with Mitzi’s father. It would be a cold, frosty day in hell before she got involved with another self-absorbed man. So she refused to be attracted to Cade Andreas. Refused.

But she still needed a job. She might own stock worth millions of dollars, but nobody wanted to buy it. Potential didn’t sell stock these days. Dividends did. And in the past two years Andreas Holdings hadn’t paid any. So she was hoping that since she owned one-third of the company they could at least let her work there. The choice to approach Cade Andreas, the youngest of the three brothers who owned controlling interest of Andreas Holdings stock and ran the company, was simply a matter of practicality. Texas was driving distance. New York City, the headquarters for the corporate offices, wasn’t. Still, if they gave her a job, she’d get there somehow. She’d go anywhere that she could put down roots and make a home.

Maybe find some friends.

“What brings you to my town?”

This time the words were harsh. Not quite angry, but definitely losing patience.

She glanced at the waitress who stood behind the counter, balancing a coffee pot and Suzanne’s piece of pie, obviously holding them hostage until she answered Cade.

She looked back at him. His already sharp eyes had narrowed in displeasure, and she had the sudden, intense intuition that if she told him who she was – in front of his adoring friends and the frozen waitress – he would not jump for joy. She would bet her last dollar that none of these people knew how much trouble Andreas Holdings was in and Cade would not be happy with the person who announced it.

There was no way she could say who she was and why she was here without talking about something he would want kept private, and no way she could explain her presence in this two-bit town so far from a major highway that no one was ever just passing through.

She glanced around, saw the sign in the door advertising for a waitress and grabbed the first piece of good luck that had come her way in over a year.

“I heard about the job for a waitress, so I came.”

“In your fancy boots, with your baby all dolled up?”

“We put on our best stuff --” she said, making herself sound as if she fit the part of a waitress. She regretted the deception, but if anybody ever deserved to be played, this guy did. Owned a town, huh? She potentially held the future of his family’s company in her hands just by whom she chose to sell her stock to, yet he’d never once considered that she might be somebody worthy of his time. “-- For the interview.”

A short, round, dark-haired woman wearing an apron scampered out of the kitchen. “You’re looking for a job?”

“Yes.” The truth of that brought her back to reality. Her purpose for coming to Whiskey Springs had been to get a job – from Andreas Holdings. Now that plan was on hold. She wasn’t exactly here to be a waitress, but money was money. And she needed some. Now. Today. She had enough cash to pay for her piece of pie and even buy extra milk for Mitzi, but after that she and Mitzi were sleeping in her car.

“I’m Suzanne Caldwell.” Because her grandmother had held the stock in a trust, her name wasn’t mentioned on any documents, so she could give it without worry. “This is my baby Mitzi.”

Mitzi picked that exact moment to cry. The little brunette scrambled over. “I’m Amanda Mae.” She shot Cade an evil look, causing Suzanne to immediately love her. “Real men don’t make babies cry.”

Cade held up his hands innocently. “Hey, I was on my own side of the booth the whole time. I didn’t touch her.”

“You’re threatening her mama.”

His face fell. “I never threatened her!”

“Just your voice is threatening.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Right. Whatever.”

She took the baby. “Would you like a bottle, little Mitzi?”

Suzanne said, “I ordered some milk and pudding for her.”

Amanda Mae looked horrified. “June Marie, where are you with this baby’s food?”

The waitress hustled over, set Suzanne’s pie in front of her and poured her a cup of coffee before she rushed away and got both the pudding and the milk.

Eyes narrowed, Cade studied the woman across the booth from him. She was a pretty little package. Eyes so blue they bordered on the purple color of the wildflowers that grew on his pasture in the spring. Black hair cut in a straight, blunt line at her chin, giving her a dramatic look that didn’t fit with a woman who needed a job as a waitress. And those boots. Black stilettos. The kind a man envisioned on his chest, pinning him to a bed.

He stopped those thoughts. She might be a pretty with her perfect nose and full, tempting lips, but he wasn’t interested.

Still, he had no doubt that he had to keep an eye on her. Something wasn’t right with her. It wasn’t just her city-girl clothes. Her demeanor didn’t fit. Waitresses didn’t have smooth hands, perfect posture, an unblinking stare.

He rose from the booth. “Well, seeing as how you got the job you wanted, I guess we’ll be running into each other from time to time.”

She only smiled. A cool, remote smile that heated his blood and all but challenged him to turn on the charm and see how long it would take to get that smile to thaw. Luckily, he was smarter than that.

Amanda Mae said, “Do you have someplace to stay, honey?”

She faced the diner owner. “I – No. Actually, I need a place to stay.”

“Hotel’s in the next town over,” Cade said, striding back to his seat at the counter and his now cold coffee.

Amanada Mae shot him another evil glare. “Or she could use the apartment upstairs until she gets on her feet.”

“I’d like that.” Suzanne pressed her fingers to Amanda Mae’s hand in a gesture of appreciation that stopped Cade cold. Maybe she was in need of a little help? Her crisp white blouse and fancy jeans could be the last good things she owned. He hadn’t heard a car drive up. He glanced out the big front window into the street. He didn’t see a car. She could be dead broke--

Nope. His business sense wouldn’t accept that. Something about her screamed money. Big money. If she was pretending she didn’t have any, there was a reason.

Damn. He was going to have to keep an eye on her.

***

Don't forget to go to susanmeier.com to read the prologue...What Came Before...for Cade Andreas and check out the workshops, recipes and the Happily Ever Afters...stories about Gino and Michael Andreas thirty years after their parents found love!

May 2011

2011-04-22T04:25:00.000-07:00

May! Can you believe it?

Doesn't it feel like just yesterday we were popping corks on champagne, celebrating the new year?

Time certainly does fly, but...I have to admit...I'm sort of thrilled that it's May. I love this month's release in the Baby in the Boardroom series, SECOND CHANCE BABY.

Nick and Maggie were a joy to write! Not only is Nick a cool southern gentleman with a great beach house, but Maggie is a fun, funny, hardworking woman just trying to get her life back together, who returned to Ocean Palms, North Carolina to be with her dad.

She's pregant with her ex-husband'd child, which annoys Nick since he was her first husband -- they'd married as teens when she'd gotten pregnant and they were incredibly happy -- but enter Stephone Andreas. Nick's missing father. At the worst possible time, he offers Nick a five million dollar trust fund. The only catch is he has to be single. Stephone blames his womanizing ways on being married when he became rich. He wasn't able to overcome the temptations thrown at him just because he had money and he cheated on Darius's mom with Nick's mom and Cade's mom and created two other Andreas heirs. So he's offering each of his sons five million dollars BEFORE they settled down to get all that out of their systems. So if Nick wants his five mill, he's gotta be single.

Of course, Maggie overhears the lawyer and of course she doesn't want him to give up his chance at success for her...Oh, wait! The whole scene for this is on my website! It's in the What Came Before section. If you want to read the heart-tugging scene where Maggie pretends she doesn't love Nick and leaves, it's online! You can read it now at susanmeier.com. Click What Came Before.

I loved Nick and Maggie's book and I think you will too!

This month is also my husband's birthday. Can't wait to see how we celebrate that. And I'll be speaking on a panel with Nancy Martin and Jonathan Maberry at the Published Authors Luncheon at the annual Pennwriters conference in Pittsburghon May 13.

This month in the eZine, we also have Lesson 3 of THE POWER OF QUESTIONS. And I'll give you my standard reminder that there are three free workshops on the site, GOAL SETTING, 10-MINUTE SOLUTION and HOW TO ANALYZE THE BOOKS YOU READ.

I'm also posting a time-management lesson (a very short lesson) on my blog every Monday. So watch for that!

Also Coming Attractions lists the schedule of my online workshops for the rest of the year, with the reminder that I'm only giving each workshop once. So if you miss it, you miss it until next year!

There's a cat tail!

And, of course, an excerpt from SECOND CHANCE BABY.

New recipes go up periodically in the HOME COOKING section of susanmeier.com.

And there are some short stories up too. This month in the HAPPILY EVER AFTER blog, Baby Gino's story is up! If you read THE BABY PROJECT, read the happily ever after that shows Darius and Whitney interfering (ever so slightly) in Gino's romance 30 years after the book.

So visit susanmeier.com and enjoy the freebies!

Happy reading!

susan

For the Writers Among us!

Lesson 3 Your Individual Story Question or Reader Question

Right now you’re thinking that the modified core story question we did in Lesson 2 is your INDIVIDUAL STORY QUESTION. Sorry. It’s the core or heart of your story, but it’s not the question that’s going to drag readers through the book. (So for simplification purposes we’re going to call this the reader question.)

Okay. So what do I mean by a question dragging readers through the book?

Simply put, your story question/reader question is the question the reader should consistently be asking as they are reading your book.

For instance, a few years ago I wrote a book SNOWBOUND BABY, about a hero and heroine who are stuck in the cabin in the woods. The hero is a trucker, estranged from his wealthy brothers, who happened upon the stranded heroine on an icy mountain road and gets stranded himself.

He has a secret. He's got a certified check for hundreds of thousands of dollars in his backpack because he's on his way to Arkansas to pay off his brothers, who bought the mortgage on his ranch, he believes, only to show him that they are always in control. His brothers have only ever wanted to control him. He trusts no one.

The heroine is a single mom. Her ex walked out when she got pregnant because he didn't "do" daddy. But her parents had also left when she was 18. As if 18 was some sort of magic number. They'd been unhappily married almost since the day she was born, but to assure she had a good upbringing they stayed together. But the minute she graduated from high school, they split! Happily. And both sort of forgot she existed. Oh, they send birthday cards, but they behave as if they've been left out of prison, for the first time able to have the lives they want. She feels very unwanted and unloved.

So…he can't commit. He thinks family sucks.

She needs a commitment from someone. She desperately wants a family. A real family.

They are doomed. The worst kind of mismatched.

The reader question isn't what has to happen to get these two together.

Readers won't read for that. That's an author question. We ask ourselves questions like this so that we can ascertain plot points and journey steps and know what to write next.

Your reader question is designed for READERS. It's what keeps them reading. Which means you also need to know it to make sure it stays in the forefront and pulls readers through your story.

So…what were my core story question and reader story question for SNOWBOUND BABY?

Core story: How will the hero and heroine get together when he doesn’t believe in love and she desperately needs to be loved?

Reader story question: Will she have enough time to realize his real problem is that he believes he's unworthy of love and then prove to him that he is?

The book was a sort of race against the clock. Though my heroine didn't realize she was trying to show the hero the power of love, readers knew only she could. But she didn't have a lot of time. As soon as the snow plow went through after the blizzard that stranded them, he would be on the road again.

Worse, he truly didn't believe. His parents had died when he was in his teens. His older brother – barely out of high school himself – raised him. All of his examples of love were examples of either being deserted or being controlled. (Because his poor older brother didn’t know better!)

And the heroine truly was a dreamer. She believed in love like no character I’d ever written. She was actually very fun to write!

Anyway, they were attracted, but had totally opposite beliefs. So there was a tension in there. The fact that they wouldn’t be in that cabin forever came smack dab up against her desperate need to be loved and his desperate need for someone to love him and prove to him that love existed.

And that's what kept readers turning those pages. Will they have enough time together or will he leave before she can prove to him that love exists?

Even better in SNOWBOUND BABY, in the black moment, it looked as if time had run out and she'd failed.

THAT's what keeps readers reading. The very real feeling that the heroine wasn’t going to satisfactorily answer the reader question because the answer was no!

In the black moment, it truly appeared as if all was lost and there absolutely was no way they’d ever see each other again. Because though she cared enough to find out details about him (like his last name), he wouldn’t tell her his address and he never asked for hers. Because they were travelers on a road, neither one of them could assume the other’s city or town of residence.

So the bottom line to all of this is:

The reader story question is something for readers. It's what keeps them reading.

YOU need to know it to make sure that it's always on the readers' minds.

Not necessarily as an actual question that pops up in the story (though sometimes you can have the heroine think or say: Will I have enough time with this guy to show him that love can be real?) but in most cases it actually manifests as something more like a reader reaction.

For example, at the end of one chapter of SNOWBOUND BABY when the hero sees how pretty the heroine is and knows it's been too long since he's been alone with a woman -- and that he doesn't want to hurt her because she's been hurt enough -- he ducks away from trouble by going to bed early …

And I could almost hear readers collectively groaning…Oh, God! He went to bed early. They only have a weekend together! She'll never have enough time to convince him.

That's one way to keep the reader question in the forefront. Consistently make it appear that the protagonist has failed, or is failing.

I realized this during the big romantic suspense craze. The reader story question usually is: "Will the female protagonist figure out who the killer is before he kills her?"

Reading those books, my lightning-fast mind realized that the authors always had to have the READERS afraid the protagonist wasn't quite going to succeed. Either she didn't know the depth of the threat or didn't have enough of the puzzle pieces to put it all together, or had decided to follow a wrong path.

In THE TERMINATOR (one of my favorite movies and a movie, by the way, that I think is just about perfect craftwise…) the “wrong path” technique is used. But it's used very cleverly. All the Sarah Connors in town are being murdered. But the heroine doesn’t know this. When two Sarah Connors are murdered, newscasters speculate that the killer at first got the wrong woman, discovered his mistake and murdered the right one. So, thinking the threat is over, our Sarah goes to a bar. And viewers begin to get nervous. We understand that she's been led down a wrong path…but we haven't been led down the wrong path! We know Arnold has killed others! Those victims simply weren't discovered yet. We want our Sarah Connor home…no better yet, we want our Sarah at the police station where she will be safe! And sure enough, who comes into the bar? Arnold, carrying a gun. The threat we perceived as viewers was very real and but our Sarah had wrong information.

What was the reader/viewer question?

What the hell is going on here that Arnold wants all the Sarah Connors dead and will our Sarah survive?

It takes a lot of the movie to answer the first part of that question for viewers. Mostly because it’s an action movie. The whole explanation can’t be spit out at one time because they’re always running. Second, the whole explanation can’t be spit out because it’s implausible. The man from the future needs to earn some reader/viewer trust before he can fully explain.

But that question…Why the heck does the Terminator want all the Sarah Connors dead and will our Sarah escape? . . . really keeps us on the edges of our seats!

The writers of the Terminator were always aware of their reader/viewer story question. Because in every scene Arnold was after her and she just barely escaped.

So let’s run over one more example of how to do this in a romance.

In my first release for Harlequin Romance HER PREGNANCY SURPRISE the reader story question was:

Will the heroine discover the hero didn't leave her to have their baby alone because he's bad, but because he blames himself for a tragedy in his life and he doesn't trust himself, and if she does will she be able to help him get beyond his grief so he can love her?

One of the things that I have discovered about a story question for a romance is that it sometimes needs to be two-tiered. The first part of the story question pertains to the external conflict. The second part to the internal conflict.

In HER PREGNANCY SURPRISE, the hero and heroine spend a weekend together, he leaves town on business and when he comes back he forgets how "wonderful" she is. (And she is. Truly.) They had a magical weekend, but he’s such a skeptical (hurt by love) guy that he convinced himself that the weekend (and heroine) weren’t that great.

Anyway, he is her boss, so when he returns to the office and she just happens to "visit" him at about 10:00, eager to see him…he breaks up with her. Readers know he's got a problem with blame. Something happened in his past that caused him to mistrust…especially himself and his own instincts.

But the heroine, who doesn’t know his past, believes he just used her because he’s a rich guy who feels he should be allowed to do things like sleep with his employees. So she sucks it up, and leaves his office with her dignity.

But two weeks later discovers she's pregnant. Being as mired in grief and guilt as he is, when she tells him, he thinks it's a trick to get him to take her back and he really doesn’t want anything to do with her then! He FIRES her and she has the baby alone.

So after the baby is born, she doesn’t trust him. Duh. No kidding. He behaved badly. But readers know he's not bad. They know he's suffering and struggling. But she doesn't know.

So the first part of the reader story question . . .

Will the heroine discover the hero didn't leave her to have their baby alone because he's bad, but because he blames himself for a tragedy in his life and he doesn't trust himself . . .

. . .pertains to her getting beyond the "thing" that is obvious and "out there" -- External. He hurt her. She doesn't trust him. There's more to his story than meets the eye, but she’s got to get past his hurting her before she can get to the real heart of the matter.

But isn't that true of all of life? Once you get beyond superficialities when you meet someone, you learn the truth and then you make a second choice. A more informed choice. Maybe even your real choice.

If you’re writing a romance, your book's reader question should work very much the same way. Once you get past the initial layer of a character's personality, the real conflict comes into play.

Back to HER PREGNANCY SURPRISE. . .

By the time she realizes he feels responsible for a tragedy, she's had a week of living with him to get to know him and she quickly realizes that if he could have prevented the accident he would have. Finding out his internal struggle, actually frees her to love him.

But…Will it do her any good?

Not unless she can get him to forgive himself.

Thus the second half of the reader story question is born…and it is based on internal conflicts. “…and if she does [realize he’s not “bad” but tormented by something in his past] will she be able to help him get beyond his grief so he can love her?”

So in a romance, the first half of the reader story question that draws readers through the story pertains to the external struggle; the second half to the internal struggle.

To recap…

The reader story question is a question you set up at the beginning of the book. It's something readers "voice" not by saying, Gee, I wonder if she'll be able to get him to trust himself so he can love her?

But rather, they voice it as reaction…They turn the page and keep reading as they’re thinking…Oh, Gosh, his life has been terrible to this point and the heroine doesn't know! He feels so darned bad that even if he tells her, and she understands and forgives him about the pregnancy, he's never going to let go of the blame enough to love her…

A reader question is born!

If you don't know your reader story question at the beginning of your book, your book will be unfocused. That's okay for the first chapter, maybe even the second, but by chapter three readers will tire of feeling like a candle in the wind.

Not because they want to be led by the nose, but because they want to be entertained. The best way for YOU to entertain them is to know the question they are asking themselves as they read. So that you can torture them…I mean entertain them.

For your homework, I’d like for you to go to your current WIP and define the question you believe readers will be asking as they read through your book. Then I want you to decide if that’s a good question. LOL

If it isn’t, or if there is no reader question, I’d like for you to write a reader question. A good one!

susan meier
SECOND CHANCE BABY, part of the BABY IN THE BOARDROOM mini-series from Harlequin Romance

Coming Attractions

August

Journey Steps. NEORWA
http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere Ever wonder what you’re supposed to “put” in between those four or five turning points of your story? Susan Meier’s Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere provides quick, easy solutions for any author who has ever wondered “now what?” Topics include the “magic formula” for plotting, the list of five, explanation of plot threads versus subplot and tricks for writing an “edge-of-the-seat” read. Learn to tell your story in one straight-forward paragraph that can be used for pitches! Beginners, intermediate and experienced authors will benefit from this workshop.

October Preparing for Nano for Pennwriters. (See Pennwriters.org)

Cat Tails

Our poor sweet Fluffy cat is getting up in years and what's interesting is that as he gets older he seems to associate more to my husband -- the other old man in the house -- than to my daughter. There are times when he sits on the sofa with my DH that they look like two old men sitting on rockers outside the general store! LOL

Now that's a vivid image!

Excerpt SECOND CHANCE BABY

Chapter 1

“Your ex-wife applied for the job as your assistant.”

Nick Andreas glanced up at his current assistant, soon-to-be-retired Julie Farnsworth. He’d just flown back to North Carolina after six weeks in New York City. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to his beach house, get out of his monkey suit and take a nap on his hammock. He’d only popped into the office because he had a huge bid due to renew the government contract that was the bread and butter of his manufacturing plant. He had to get an assistant in now.

He just wasn’t sure hiring Maggie Forsythe as Julie’s replacement was the best way to go. When he had a bid due, his assistant worked with him – directly with him, at his side – ten hours a day, six days a week. No man wanted to spend that much time with his ex-wife. Not even an ex-wife he hadn’t seen in fifteen years. An ex-wife he barely remembered.

He tossed his pen to his desk. “You wouldn’t be telling me this if she wasn’t qualified.”

“She’s qualified. Over qualified in some respects.”

“And she actually applied?”

“Well, we certainly didn’t drag her in off the street.”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair. So Maggie wanted to work for him? He smiled skeptically as weird feelings assaulted him. He hadn’t thought about Maggie Forsythe in over a decade. Now, suddenly, he could vividly recall how the sun would catch her red hair and make it sparkle, her wide, happy smile, the sound of her laughter.

“Sorry if I’m finding all this a little hard to believe, but we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. Andreas Manufacturing should be the last place she wants to work.”

His sixty-five-year-old assistant caught his gaze with serious dark eyes. “She needs the money.”

She was broke? The way he’d been when they’d met?

Memories of his childhood and teen years cascaded through his brain like water spilling from a waterfall. Maggie at six, toothless in first grade, dividing her morning snack with him before they went into the building so no one in their class would see he hadn’t brought one. Maggie at twelve, fishing with him so he and his mom could have something for supper. Maggie at fifteen, hanging out in the souvenir shop where he worked, entertaining him on long, boring afternoons before the tourist season picked up. Maggie at eighteen, swollen with his child.

A long-forgotten ache filled his chest and made him scowl. The woman he was remembering with such fondness had dropped him like a hot potato when she’d lost their baby. She hadn’t loved him. She’d only married him because he’d gotten her pregnant one reckless night. Twenty minutes after they returned from the hospital after her miscarriage, she was out the door of his mom’s house. Out of his life.

“She should have as many reservations about working with me as I have about working with her.”

“Her stepmom died while you were in New York. Rumor has it that she came home for the funeral and decided her dad needed her. She quit her job and moved back permanently but in three weeks of looking she couldn’t find work – unless she wants to commute to the city.” Julie peered at him over the rim of her glasses. “Aside from tourism, you’re the only real employer in Ocean Palms.”

He picked up his pen again. “Hire her.”

Julie gasped softly. “Really?”

“Sure. We were married as kids. Fifteen years have gone by.” He wasn’t such a selfish, self-centered oaf that he’d let someone suffer because she had the misfortune of having a history with him. He knew what it was like to have no options. He’d spent his entire childhood living hand-to-mouth. He wouldn’t ignore the person who, as a child, had shared with him, helped him, even rescued him a time or two.

Plus, if Julie said Maggie was the person for the job then she was.

Julie rose. “Okay. She’s in my office. She said she can begin today. I’ll bring her in and we can get started.”

Nick sat up in his seat. Today? He didn’t even have ten minutes to mentally prepare?

Julie walked to his office door and opened it. “Come in, Maggie.”

A true southern gentleman, Nick rose from the tall-back chair behind his huge mahogany desk. Ridiculously, he couldn’t squelch the pride that surged up in him as he took in the expensive Persian rugs that sat on the hardwood floors of his office, the lamps from China, the heavy leather sofa and chair in the conversation area, the art from the broker in New York City. He was rich, successful, and his office showed it. He’d fulfilled the promise of his youth. He had brains and skill and he’d parlayed those into wealth beyond anyone’s expectations. One look at his office would tell Maggie he wasn’t the eighteen-year-old boy she’d deserted anymore.

The click of high heels on the hardwood announced her arrival two seconds before she appeared in his doorway. Her gorgeous red hair flowed around her, but it was shaped and curled in a way that framed her face, not straight as she had worn it when they were married. Her once sparkly green eyes now held soul-searching intensity. Her full red lips rose slightly in a reluctant smile.

Just as he wasn’t the eighteen-year-old she’d left behind anymore, she didn’t look a thing like his Maggie.

He relaxed as his gaze involuntarily fell from her face to her dress. A simple red tank dress that showed off a newly acquired suntan, but also couldn’t hide her only slightly protruding stomach.

She was pregnant?

He gave her tummy a more thorough scrutiny.

She was pregnant.

And suddenly he was that eighteen-year-old boy again. Seeing his woman, the love of his life, swollen with his child. More memories washed over him. The dreams he’d had for the kind of father he would be rose up as if he’d been lost in them only yesterday. Love for her, the woman bearing his child, burst in his chest.

But this wasn’t his child. She’d lost their child.

And she didn’t love him.

Hell, he no longer loved her.

“Come in,” he said. His voice was tight with a bit of a squeak but he ignored that, motioning to the chair in front of his desk.

Maggie took a few hesitant steps inside. Now trim instead of lanky, she wore her pregnancy the same way another woman would wear a designer dress.

That was when he realized she was probably married. Happily married. Not scared and hesitant, but with no other options because her stepmom had kicked her out of the house. But happy. Having a child with the man she loved.

He swallowed the knot that formed in his throat, reminding himself that these emotions churning through him were ridiculous. He was over her. Plus, they hadn’t even seen each other in fifteen years. The feelings weren’t really feelings. They were residue. Like cobwebs that had clung to the walls of his brain and would disappear once he got to know the adult Maggie.

“Julie wants to hire you but I have a few reservations.”

He didn’t even try to stop the words that flowed from his mouth. Though he’d already told Julie to hire her, now that he saw that she was pregnant, he had some concerns. Not about the “feelings” seeing her pregnant aroused, but her ability to do the job.

She gracefully sat on the chair in front of his desk, smiled softly. “You mean because we were once married?”

He snorted a laugh, but Julie’s hand flew to her throat. “You know, I think I’ll just go get us some coffee.”

Nick said, “She can’t drink coffee,” at the same time that Maggie said, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Julie said, “Then I’ll get some coffee for myself.” She fled the room, closing the door behind her.

Nick sat back in his chair, reaching deep inside himself for the calm that was his trademark. He had to treat her as any other employee and speak accordingly.

“For the next four weeks I need to work ten-hour days.”

“Six days a week. I get that. Julie told me.”

“Can you keep up?”

“Of course, I can keep up. I’m pregnant not sick.”

The room plunged into eerie silence. Memories of the day she’d lost their baby haunted him like menacing ghosts.

As if recognizing where his thoughts had gone, Maggie sighed. “Nick, I’m fine. Really. And I need this job. If you don’t hire me I’ll have to get work in the city and commute an hour each way.”

“An hour commute might be better for a pregnant woman than racing around the plant looking for documents I need, assembling information from different departments--”

He paused to catch her gaze and when he saw green eyes sparking with fire, everything he intended to say fell out of his head. He remembered that look very well, remembered how many times it had taken them straight to bed.

“I already told you I can keep up.”

He took in a quiet breath, reminding himself that Maggie was a married woman who wanted to work for him. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was how her fiery need for independence had played out between the sheets.

“Yeah, well, maybe I want some kind of proof.”

She smiled sweetly, calmly. “In a couple of months, I’m not going to be pregnant anymore. Then you’re going to be sorry you lost the chance to hire me.”

A laugh escaped. Dear God. This really was his Maggie. Fiery one minute, serene the next. And the common sense, logical Maggie could be every bit as sexy as the impassioned one.

But she was married.

And he was a runaround now.

Having a father who’d abandoned him had made him want commitments, but Maggie leaving him had set him straight on that score. And he’d changed. He wasn’t simple Nick Roebuck anymore. The guy who hadn’t taken his father’s name. The guy who wanted commitments. A wife. Family. Nope. Nick Roebuck was gone. He was now Nick Andreas, playboy.

“Besides, my father needs me.”

Shifting in his chair, Nick blew his breath out in a gusty sigh. Who he was didn’t matter. Who she was didn’t matter. She was off limits. “I’m sorry about your stepmom.”

“Thanks.”

“I was out of town or I would have paid my respects.”

Her gaze dipped. “I know.”

“Was everything – you know – okay?” He nearly bit his tongue for his clumsiness. But what could he say? How could he ask if she and Vicki had mended fences? If they’d ever gotten beyond the fact that Vicki had favored Charlie Junior over her? If Vicki had ever forgiven Maggie for getting pregnant? If Maggie had ever forgiven Vicki for kicking her out of the house?

“It was fine.” She shrugged. “Losing someone is always hard.”

Which told him nothing. Not that it was any of his business. He scrambled for something safe to say, but the only thing he could think of was, “Yeah. My father died last January. I know how hard these things can be.”

She smiled and her eyes brightened. “Oh, so you met your father? You had a relationship?”

“Yes and no.” He tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk, tamping down the sudden, unexpected urge to tell her everything. They weren’t friends anymore. She might act like the girl he’d known and loved, but she wasn’t. And he wasn’t the love-sick boy she’d married.

Still, he couldn’t ignore her question. “I met my father but we didn’t really have a relationship. Unless you call having dinner every other year a relationship.”

“That’s too bad.” Genuine regret colored her voice. “So how’s your mom?”

He chuckled. “She’s just like a little general at the daycare. Loves the kids, but keeps them in line.”

Maggie’s laugh was quick and easy. “God I missed her.”

“We missed you.” The words slipped out and he knew why. He was getting comfortable with her. And that was wrong. If they were going to work together, he had to draw lines. Be professional.

She looked away. “No point in staying once I’d lost the baby.”

Hearing her say that now hurt almost as much as it had the day she left. “Right.”

“Before I got pregnant, we both had plans.”

“Is that what you were thinking about while I was talking to my father’s attorney?”

For years he’d wondered. What kind of coincidence could it have been that the dad who’d ignored him his entire life suddenly wanted to give him a trust fund? Had it been a gift from fate to Maggie, or a curse of fate for him?

She caught his gaze. “Yes.”

When his heart squeezed, he swore at himself inwardly for asking the stupid question. He’d already reasoned all this out in his head. Gotten beyond it. There was no point going over it again. Certainly no point rehashing it with her. Fifteen years had passed and he loved the life he’d built without her.

If they were going to work together, the past would have to be forgotten. His only goal should be to make sure she really did have the education and experience to do the job.

“So you’ve have a business degree?”

“Yes.” She shifted on the chair. Her shoulders went back. Her expression became businesslike. “But I’m not looking down on this job. I think there are a lot of ways I can help you.”

“What did you do at your last job?”

“I was an analyst for a firm that put venture capitalist groups together with struggling businesses looking for investors or a buyer.”

“Do you know much about manufacturing?”

She laughed. “Most of the businesses looking for investors or buyout are manufacturing companies.”

He tapped his pen on the desk. He needed somebody and, as Julie said, Maggie was qualified. Now he and his ex-wife would be spending ten hours a day, six days a week together.

He looked over at her just as she looked at him and the years between them melted away. Her eyes weren’t as wary as they had been when she walked in the door. Her smile was genuine.

Doubt rumbled through his soul. In the sea of women that he’d dated since he’d hit puberty, she was the only one he’d loved. It had taken almost five years to really get beyond her leaving; years before he stopped hoping every ring of the phone was her calling; years before he stopped looking for her in crowds. One five-minute conversation had already brought an avalanche of memories. This was not going to be easy.

Don't forget! The prologue for SECOND CHANCE BABY is up on susanmeier.com!

And SECOND CHANCE BABY is out now!

The BABIES IN THE BOARDROOM series completes next month with A BABY ON THE RANCH. And, believe me, it was worth the wait. :)

OH! Almost forgot! COMMENT FOR A CHANCE TO WIN a copy of SECOND CHANCE BABY. Then check back on my DearReader blog on Monday May 30 to see if you're the winner. Winner must provide me with his/her snail mail addy within 10 days of the announcement.

So comment! And get a chance to win SECOND CHANCE BABY.

And don't forget the FREE story on the HAPPILY EVER AFTER section. If you're reading the series, you'll love Gino's story!

Susan Meier Ezine April 2011

2011-03-30T10:15:00.000-07:00

Hey! Happy April!

There is no month I like better than April. Why? My birthday. LOL No matter that I add an extra year. I still love the day...the whole month actually.

So for me there is no better thrill than having a book out in the month I love. Especially when it's the first book in an amazing series.

Why do I call this series amazing? Well, first off, the characters just sort of appeared to me one day. And each came with a fabulous backstory. But, second, their romances were a cut above the romances I'd written before.

Darius is a wealthy bachelor, who, with the deaths of his parents about a year apart, suddenly realizes he's alone.

Except he's not really alone. He has some half-brothers. Nick and Cade. Products of affairs his father had. He doesn't like them. They only serve to force him to share his inheritance. But when they discover there's a fourth Andreas son, at the reading of the will, and this son is only six months old...and Darius gets custody...shared with his father's beautiful attorney...Well, let's just say Darius's whole world changes.

Especially when he finds out Whitney isn't just a smart, beautiful woman. She's a widow.

Whitney is so devistated by her loss that she doesn't want to come back to the land of the living, but getting custody of Gino forces her to at least pretend. Falling in love with Darius, however, will press her smack dab up against all her fears and force her to face them.

It's a wonderful story. (If I do say so myself! LOL) I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts after you read it.

This month, I'm posting lesson 2 of THE POWER OF QUESTIONS workshop. Follow me through the next few issues of this Ezine and you'll get the whole workshop.

Remember, there are three free workshops on susanmeier.com. Goal Setting, The 10-Minute Solution and How to Analyze the Books You Read.

I'm also posting my schedule for online classes this year and some links that will take you to short stories and "prequils" I'm posting on my website. In fact, go to the website right now and you'll find "What Happened Before" for Darius. How did he become the person you'll meet on Page 1 of THE BABY PROJECT? It's a neat way to get some information that didn't make it into the book.

There's a Cat Tail. What issue would be complete without a story about Sophie or Fluffy?

And an excerpt from THE BABY PROJECT.

So enjoy! And meet me back here next month for the next lesson in THE POWER OF QUESTIONS and some dish about SECOND CHANCE BABY!

susan

For the Writers Among Us!

Lesson Two: Core Story Question

Like it or not, every time a reader picks up a romance, she expects certain things. Every time a reader picks up a thriller, she expects other things. Every time a reader picks up a sci-fi, she expects a totally different set of things.

And how do we know what readers expect from every book in the genre or subgenre currently popular?

Because at its heart every genre and subgenre has a core story question.

Every genre or subgenre has its own "signature" question that makes a book fit that genre. It’s a marketing tool for booksellers to know how to shelve books, but more than that it's also a tool that helps an author keep his or her book focused so it not only results in a tight book. . .it also ensures a book hits its market.

Some of you are going to rebel against this because you WANT to be writing mainstream. You WANT to appeal to a broad audience.

I agree. I applaud you, but don't turn away the tool that might jumpstart your story and give it enough focus that readers will love you.

For instance. . .

In CJ Lyons’ workshop, Thrills, Chills and Spills, How to Write the Modern-Day Thriller, she says, the story question of a mystery is Who. Who done it? LOL. The protagonist works to figure out who killed the cop, who murdered the mom, who blew up the bishop. Who done it?

The story question of a thriller is how? How will your protagonist save the world (albeit his or her own personal world) from the evil villain intent on destroying it?

That’s pretty obvious stuff. But how do YOU as author use it? How can it make writing your book easier? How can it make your book better?

To answer those questions, let’s look at the movie AIR FORCE ONE with Harrison Ford.

After the plane of the president of the United States is hijacked and most of the secret service agents on board are killed, it's pretty clear that the president is going to have to save himself. So the question becomes how.

How will an aging military hero save himself when he's trapped on a plane, has no weapon, is outgunned and the villains are using his family against him?

Did you notice what I did there? I took the broad and general 'GENRE' question for a thriller (How will the protagonist save the world) and turned it into a concise story question for a specific story.

Because that's what makes your book unique. If you’re writing a thriller, the way you twist or turn or enhance YOUR version of “how will the hero save the world” is the way you make your book great, or different, or unique.

So right off the bat you need to know what genre you are writing so you know how to direct your story, but once you know that, you can manipulate the question with your story facts and make your story the best it can be.

Why is this important? Very simple. If you can write a clear, concise story question, you can show yourself (and potentially an editor) that your story fits your genre, making it marketable. Even better, as we did with the core story question for AIR FORCE ONE…you can almost “outline” your story for yourself to keep yourself on track.

Think it through. Is the AIR FORCE ONE story question not a mini-outline?

How will an aging military hero save himself when
he's trapped on a plane,
has no weapon,
is outgunned
and the villains are using his family against him?

We first hear that Harrison Ford is an aging military hero in the setup. The press is questioning his ability to do his job – President of the United States - because he’s getting up in years. He was elected as a hero. Now he’s getting old. He’s not the guy the American people elected.

Then the terrorists take over Air Force One, and he realizes he’s trapped.

But he can’t do anything because he has no weapon. So he knocks somebody out and gets a gun.

But guess what? One gun against five isn’t such good odds. (LOL)

So he stealthily “takes” the terrorists one by one.

Until he’s coming so close to having the upper hand that the terrorists tell him (over the loudspeaker) that they have his wife and daughter, more or less forcing him to give up.

That’s pretty much a summary of the plot points. And the core story question contained all that. So, the core story question created for this movie contains the highlights, or plot points, of the story.

And you can do that too. The trick is…Know your core story question for your genre, then give it life and energy with the specifics of your particular plot!

But Mystery and Thriller aren’t the only two genres. My followers are typically romance writers, so I know that lots of you write romance. So let’s breakdown the core story question for Romance. . .

The question of a romance seems to be How? How will the hero and heroine get together?

But that isn’t really a romance. You have to take that question one step further. The real question is: How will the hero and heroine get together in spite of their differences – and the intense internal conflict (incorrect core belief) that separates them?

Why did I add more to the original question? Because all romance novels have conflicts. If you didn't have that distinction in your core story question, the answer to "How will they get together?" could be that a neighbor arranges a date and they have seven more dates and, boom, they get married.

You'd still have a book, but you wouldn't have a romance novel because your story wouldn't be rich or deep in the way that today's romance novels are. So adding the conflict into the core story question reminds you that you must have a conflict that keeps your novel focused.

How about a coming-of-age story? This isn't a genre. It's a story type, but story types also have a core story question. . .For a coming-of-age story the core story question is: What will it take for the protagonist to learn his lesson and grow up?

Let's look at the coming-of-age movie Sixteen Candles. As the heroine and her family prepare for her older sister’s wedding, the heroine is bummed because it’s her birthday and nobody’s noticing. Her lesson is. . .seriously. . .LOL . . .THIS is her lesson:

You will have lots of birthdays in your lifetime but your sister (hopefully) will only have one wedding day. It's time to grow up and not be a special princess today and let your sister have her wedding day in the sun.

So the core story question is…What will it take for our heroine to realize she will have lots of birthdays in her lifetime but her sister (hopefully) will only have one wedding day, so it's time to grow up and not be a special princess today and let your sister have her wedding day in the sun?

Let’s look at the movie a little closer to prove to you that this really is the core story question (LOL!) . . .

At first we sympathize with the heroine. It's her birthday, nobody remembers. We're a tad bummed for her. But as the story progresses and everything goes wrong with her sister's wedding, we suddenly realize the heroine is sixteen, having one of many birthdays, her sister is getting married. Hopefully for the one and only time in her life! This is a more important day to her sister. And everything that can go wrong is going wrong!

Amid all the craziness of the wedding, our heroine comes up against the lesson she needs to learn several times. Instead of truly learning her lesson, she 'pretends' it doesn't matter that everyone's forgotten her; but it does. She sighs and accepts. But deep down, she still feels bad. Then finally, finally, in the end she goes beyond acceptance, to actually being happy for her sister and we realize she's grown.

The implication is that in a coming-of-age story the protagonist has to have several opportunities to 'grasp' the truth, face the truth, learn his or her lesson, and though he or she grows a little bit through every stage of the story, it takes several tries before she gets the lesson completely.

And could you, if you were writing a coming-of-age story, use those “opportunities” as plot points for your story? Couldn’t you put them into your core story question and make it very easy to focus and direct your story? Of course you could!

So your assignment for today is to figure out the core story question for your genre/subgenre/story type and then modify it to fit your story.

If you're writing a romance, mystery, thriller or coming of age, you’re in luck! We’ve done half your work!

If you’re writing something outside the examples I gave, you've got a little more work to do!

susan meier
THE BABY PROJECT, 4/11, Part of the BABY IN THE BOARDROOM mini-series from Harlequin Romance

Coming Attractions

Release of THE BABY PROJECT, April, 2011
SECOND CHANCE BABY, May 2011
BABY ON THE RANCH, June 2011

April
http://starrwa.org/on-line-workshops/

April 4 – 29, 2011: Can This Manuscript be Saved
SUSAN MEIER IS ONLY OFFERING THIS CLASS ONCE IN 2011!
Instructor: Susan Meier
Deadline to Register: April 3, 2011

Course Content: Rejected? Can’t get an agent? Can’t sell, even though your critique partners LOVE your work? Susan Meier reviews the seven most common rejection catch phrases and explains how determining whether your problem is a story, scene or word problem, a first step on the road to recovery. She’ll shares tricks-of-the-trade to finding and fixing your errors before you submit. Following the assignments at the end of each lesson, attendees will learn how to “skim-read” their manuscripts quickly, marking specific problems with post-its. Susan also demonstrates how to use a storyboard, a list of twenty and a one-paragraph blurb to create a plan of attack for fixing your book’s trouble. She can’t revise or rewrite your manuscript for you, but with her tricks you’ll not only see how to revise the book of your heart; you’ll also see how published authors are able to write four, five and even six books a year without breaking a sweat!

August

Journey Steps. NEORWA (Info not up on site yet!)

http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere

Ever wonder what you’re supposed to “put” in between those four or five turning points of your story? Susan Meier’s Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere provides quick, easy solutions for any author who has ever wondered “now what?”

Topics include the “magic formula” for plotting, the list of five, explanation of plot threads versus subplot and tricks for writing an “edge-of-the-seat” read. Learn to tell your story in one straight-forward paragraph that can be used for pitches! Beginners, intermediate and experienced authors will benefit from this workshop.

And ... for the first time ever...In October, I will be doing a 4-week workshop for Pennwriters PREPARING FOR NANO!

Cat Tails!

Poor, sweet Sophia is sitting around the house waiting for spring. She's a hunter. She doesn't like this sitting-around-the-house stuff. Last week, the weather was exceptionally warm but there was still snow on the ground. She'd paw at the door. I'd open it and she'd see the snow and look back at me as if to say, "You have got to be kidding."

So now she doesn't paw at the door. She sits on the window sill and sighs!

Hopefully, by the time this is out, she will be too!

Excerpt

THE BABY PROJECT

Chapter 1

“The Andreas brothers have arrived.”

As the secretary’s announcement came through the speaker phone, attorney Whitney Ross turned from the window in her father’s law office. The gathering January storm clouds above the New York City skyscrapers concerned her, but the Andreas brothers’ visit would be every bit as tumultuous.

Gerard Ross pressed a button on his phone. “Tell them I need five minutes.”

He caught Whitney’s gaze, his green eyes bright with something she decided was a cross between trepidation and humor.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Not enjoying exactly.” He grimaced, leaning his round body back in his office chair. He rhythmically tapped the blotter on his cherry wood desk. “How about if we say Stephone used his will to accomplish a few important things?”

Though Whitney had never met Stephone Andreas’s sons, Stephone had been a close friend of her father’s. He’d come to dinner at least once a month from the time she was six, and had talked about “his boys” incessantly. So she suspected she knew what was going on. The senior Andreas had always believed his three sons needed a kick in the pants and it seemed he’d finally found a way to give them one.

“You persuaded Stephone to use his will to force them to grow up.”

“This is about more than growing up. All three are smart. All three are good businessmen. Any one of them could take over the family holdings. But not one of them has a sense of loyalty or family.”

“And this is where the will comes in?”

“Yes. Stephone gave everything important to his oldest son, Darius. Whether or not that divides them for good or forces them to unite all depends on whether Darius takes the reins like a true leader and unites them.”

He rose and headed for the black leather sofa in the comfortable meeting area in the corner of his big law office. After he sat, he patted the spot beside him, indicating this is where she should sit for their upcoming meeting.

“But before I bring the brothers in, there’s something you need to know. Missy had something put in her will for you that Stephone agreed would also go into his.”

Whitney took the seat he’d offered. “Missy put something in her will for me?” She wasn’t surprised. Missy Harrington had been her roommate from the time they were freshman at university the whole way through law school. With an alcoholic mom and a dad who’d left when Missy was young, Missy had adopted Whitney’s family. For seven years, she’d shared every holiday and most of her vacations with the Rosses. Though Whitney had hardly seen her since she introduced Missy to Stephone, when they’d run off to Greece together, Whitney and Missy had a strong bond.

“She didn’t exactly leave you something. In accordance with Stephone and Missy’s wills, you and Darius got shared custody of their son.”

Her stomach squeezed. “What?”

“Okay. Look. It’s been three years since the accident that took Burn and Layla. And though I hadn’t known Missy and Stephone would die so soon when I let them put this provision in their wills, it’s still time you came back to the land of the living.” Her dad pulled a small envelope from one of the files in the stack on the coffee table. “She left this note for you.”

Her hand wrapped around the envelope and she paled.

“Stephone wanted Darius to raise their son, but Missy was adamant about you having joint custody. The Andreas brothers are rich and spoiled. And they don’t even know their father had another son. It’s anybody’s guess how they’ll react when they find out. I believe that Missy made you co-guardian to assure Gino was also in the hands of someone she trusted.”

“But I don’t know Gino either! When Missy and Stephone moved to Greece, we lost touch. I’ve never met Gino. I’ll be no better for this baby than his brother.”

He caught her hand. “You might not know Gino, but Missy knew you. She knew you had a sense of family. A sense of right and wrong. You’ve also been a mom. You’ll get to know Gino and, as young as he is, Gino will grow accustomed to you too.” He squeezed her fingers. “Besides, you need this.”

She tried to bounce off the sofa, but her dad held fast to her hand. When she faced him her eyes were blazing. “No! I don’t need this! I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine. Otherwise, getting custody of Gino wouldn’t make you angry.”

He pressed a button on the phone on the coffee table that sat in the center of the circle made by the sofa and three black leather chairs. “Cynthia, bring in Gino, please.”

Whitney’s heart stopped. Her stomach rolled. Her head spun. For the past three years, she’d avoided even being near a baby. The scent of baby powder, the feel of snuggly blankets, the sight of someone so tiny, so helpless, and so beautiful would have been her undoing. And now her father wanted her to take a baby into her home?

The side door opened and Cyndy Smith walked in carrying six-month-old Gino Andreas in a baby carrier, along with a diaper bag and duffle.

Her father squeezed her hand again. “Your mother and I have been keeping Gino during the Andreas funerals, but it’s time you took him.” He rose and accepted the baby carrier from Cyndy. “Thank you, Cyn.”

She nodded and her blonde hair bobbed. “You’re welcome, sir.”

As Cyn left the room, Whitney’s father set the carrier on the sofa, pulled Gino out and presented the dark-haired, dark-eyed baby boy to her. “He’s yours, Whitney.”

Knowing there was no arguing with her father or he’d send her back to therapy, Whitney slid the envelope into her jacket pocket and took the six-month-old with shaking hands. He immediately began to cry.

“Don’t cry, sweetie,” she crooned, automatically pressing his head to her shoulder to comfort him. “It’s okay.”

Her instinctive response to his crying amazed her, but she wasn’t surprised by the pain that sliced through her – the memories that flashed through her brain. Her daughter had been a tiny blonde with huge blue eyes. She’d rarely cried. Except when she missed her mother. She’d loved bananas and puppies. To Whitney she’d seemed the smartest baby on the face of the earth.

Tears filled her eyes. Her stomach tightened.

She couldn’t do this.

Maybe she did need more time with Dr. Miller?

But before she could say anything to her dad, the office door opened. Wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a cable knit sweater, Cade Andreas entered first. Behind him was Nick, the dark-haired, dark-eyed brother who most resembled the senior Andreas. And finally Darius. Taller than their father, but with eyes and hair as dark as his, striking in his expensive business suit, Darius was very clearly the leader of the group.

Their expressions were solemn, yet strong. Almost arrogant. The head of the Andreas family was dead. They now controlled one of the largest shipping conglomerates in the world.

Or so they thought.

She glanced at the baby in her arms. For the first time in three years she felt a swell of protectiveness only a mother could feel, and she understood why Missy had given her custody along with Darius. The Andreas men were strong. Maybe too strong. And babies needed love.

The question was did she have any left to give?

* * *

“Are you kidding me?”

Darius Andreas gaped at Gerard Ross, his deceased father’s attorney, then his daughter Whitney Ross, a tall, cool blonde with gray-blue eyes who looked nothing like her short, round father. The pair sat on the black leather sofa. The Andreas brothers sat across from them on three black leather chairs. Beside Whitney was a baby carrier and inside the carrier was a baby boy who looked to be only a few months old. His black hair and dark eyes marked him as an Andreas as clearly as Gerard Ross’s pronouncement did.

“I assure you, there’s no joke.” Gerard leaned back, getting more comfortable. “This little boy is your father’s final son. There are four of you now.”

He picked up the will and began reading again. “It is my wish that the remaining two-thirds share of Andreas Holdings be divided equally among my four sons: Darius, Cade, Nick and Gino.”

Gino.

A baby.

His final half-sibling was a baby!

Darius sucked in a breath, forcing that to sink in, but it wouldn’t. His brain had frozen. He was stunned, speechless, and working not to lose his temper over something he couldn’t change. Silent Nick and Cade appeared to be equally shell shocked.

Finally, the business sense Darius had trusted his entire life came to his rescue. “I want a DNA test.”

The smooth leather sofa sighed when Gerard sat forward. He looked down at his entwined fingers then caught Darius’s gaze. “Your father might not have married Missy Harrington, but he’s named on the birth certificate as Gino’s father. Had Missy not died with your father, you might be fighting her for the company right now.”

“I still want DNA.”

“I understand you’re surprised—“

“Surprised? How about shocked? First, our father calls us to the hospital after the accident to tell us that he gave one-third interest in the company to his first administrative assistant. So we’ll never fully own our own damned company. Then he tells us we have no sense of family and unless we pull together we’re going to lose everything he built. Then he dies. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Now you’re telling us there’s a fourth brother?”

“Mr. Andreas, the very fact that you didn’t know your father had another child is proof that your sense of family leaves a bit to be desired.”

Darius nearly cursed. Who was his womanizing father to tell him that he had no sense of family? His father had abandoned his mother. Hell, Stephone had abandoned him until he was in his teens. And then he’d only appeared in Darius’s life because he wanted to assure that Darius went to a good university so he could be groomed to work for Andreas Holdings.

“For decades our father preached that we shouldn’t take family troubles to outsiders.” He rose. “Yet it looks like that’s exactly what he’s done.” He reached for the baby carrier. Now that the shock was receding, things were beginning to sink in and make sense. He didn’t really need DNA to tell him this was his brother. His father had been living with a thirty-year-old woman. It was no shock she’d gotten pregnant. Gino had all the physical markings of an Andreas. With his father’s name on the birth certificate and Gino’s name in the will, this little boy was family. And his father wanted him to care for him. So he would. Unlike his two brothers, Darius always did want their father asked.

“We’ll take our brother and go now.”

Whitney held back the carrier. “Dad?”

Gerard said, “There’s more.”

Darius just barely controlled his rising fury. “More?”

“You, Darius, get custody of Gino but you share it with Whitney.”

He turned his heated gaze on her.

Her yellow hair was probably pretty, but she had it rolled in a tight, no-nonsense bun at the back of her head. Her gray suit hid any hint of the body beneath it. He caught the gaze of her blue-gray eyes. In spite of the fact that she dressed to downplay her appearance, Darius felt a click of attraction. And it was mutual. He saw the flicker in her pretty blue orbs.

“It’s up to you how you divide Gino’s time. If you want to have him three days a week and Whitney four, or if you want to have him for two weeks a month and Whitney two, whatever you choose is up to you two. But she will vote his share at your board of directors meetings.”

This time Darius did curse. But he quickly pulled in a breath, struggling to rein in his temper, and glanced again at Whitney. The click of attraction he’d felt when he’d first looked into her eyes turned into a current of electricity that zapped between them. They were definitely attracted.

If this were any other day, any other time, any other circumstance, he would have pursued her. Peel off a few layers of clothes, take down her hair and he was just about certain he’d find paradise.

But those eyes, those pretty Persian cat eyes, told him to forget it. It didn’t matter if they were attracted to each other. They had a job to do. Raise Gino.

Together.

* * *

Whitney stayed perfectly still under Darius Andreas’s scrutiny, though warm, sweet attraction hummed through her. She ignored it. He was a gorgeous man with his dark, brooding good looks, tailored suit made to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim hips, and commanding personality. Any woman would react to him. Simply from the way his other brothers hadn’t even spoken since introductions were made, it was clear that Darius was the brother in charge. And that was very sexy.

With piercing his onyx eyes boring into hers, she suppressed a shiver. But she wasn’t worried about falling victim to the attraction. Attractions frequently grew into relationships and relationships made people vulnerable. The pain that had followed the loss of her husband had been indescribable. She’d never put herself through that again. She’d never even let herself get close. She couldn’t be attracted to Darius Andreas. She refused.

Darius squeezed his eyes shut in disgust and popped them open again. “All right. Fine.” He motioned for Whitney to follow him. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“If this baby’s on the board, he’s working for a living.”

Whitney’s dad laughed. “Very funny, Darius.”

“I’m not laughing. My father left the company in a sad state. There’s work to do. And nobody’s excused. Since your daughter has his vote, she’ll pull his share of the duty.”

“That’s preposterous—“

“Dad,” Whitney interrupted her father. “It’s okay. I’ve never been one to shirk my responsibilities.” She straightened her shoulders and looked Darius in the eye, accepting his challenge. If he thought he’d intimidate her on day one, he was sadly mistaken. She could handle a little work. “If everybody’s working, then I will too.”

“All right,” her dad agreed, “but before anybody leaves there’s one more thing.”

Darius turned. His dark eyes were ablaze now.

Whitney’s dad looked from Darius to Cade to Nick and back at Darius again. “With your father’s former assistant in possession of a one-third share of Andreas Holdings, and four brothers sharing the other two thirds, you don’t have to be a math scholar to know that individually none of you has controlling interest in the whole company.” He glanced from Darius to Cade to Nick again. “Your father has instructed me to allow the benefactor of the final one-third interest to remain anonymous until she decides how to handle her position. She’s in her seventies, so she may simply want to sit back and enjoy the profits. But if she decides she wants to be active in the company, you had better be united or Andreas Holdings will end up being run by somebody other than an Andreas.”

Don't forget to go to susanmeier.com to read What Came Before...The beginning of Darius's story!

November 2010 Happy Holidays!

2010-10-28T07:58:00.000-07:00

It's fun to be back with another edition of my ezine. Especially since exciting things are happening at susanmeier.com. I'm adding more content to my website. You won't have to wait for this ezine for excerpts! Or to read a little bit more about the characters in each of my books. Starting with A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS, I'm posting "What Came Before" and "Happily Ever After" segments that will show you what came before the book opened for one of the main characters and how they're doing a few years later!

There will also be a new workshop up on the site...Goal Setting! Just in time for the new year.

I'm also toying with the idea of releasing an ezine every other month. I'd like to do it every month but with my schedule I think trying out every other month might be wiser!

So what about this anthology Barbara Wallace and I wrote for Christmas? Well, I'm prejudiced, but working with Barbara was lots of fun. This is her debut story, which was very humbling for me. What fun to be out with someone who is experiencing her first book rush!

Our heroines are twins. My twin Gwen finds her true love first in A BABY BENEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE. The hero, Drew Teaberry, is a workaholic who doesn't believe in love. But single mom Gwen quickly turns into a confidante when Drew's adolescent son begins acting out, angry that he's left with his dad while his mom goes on her honeymoon.

All that would be great, but what makes this book special is that it takes place on a Christmas tree farm. And, even better, the trees are said to be magic. Legend has it that if you hold a branch and make a wish, your wish will come true.

There's a lot to wish for in the Teaberry family. There's the success of the business venture that brought Drew back to his family home. There's the longing of Drew's son, Brody, to have a place. There's the longing in Gwen's heart not to be alone.

Drew and his son become her temporary family...but can she keep them?

I think the two stories in A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS, will warm your heart. So grab a cup of cocoa, wrap up in a blanket and settle in for some holiday fun...and romance!

Enjoy the writing lesson that follows, along with this issue's Cat Tails, which features my favorite mouser, Sophia Maria Lolita Conchita Chequita Banana.

And for those of you who follow my workshops, a schedule is also posted below!

susan

***

FOR THE WRITERS AMONG US!

This issue's lesson is Lesson One of one of my favorite workshops, THE POWER OF QUESTIONS. I'm thinking of shaking things up a bit and releasing all the lessons of this workshop in the upcoming editions. So you'll get the whole workshop!

Enjoy.

Lesson One: Questions can revolutionize your writing
Most of you are here for one of two reasons. Some of you are at the beginning of your career and you’re eager to learn everything you can. Others are trying to better yourselves or your work, or simply to take the next step.

If you’re here because you are at the beginning of your career and you’re eager to learn everything you can right now, before you take too many steps…Wow. I envy you. Learning how to use questions will make your path so much smoother!

If you’re here because you’re trying to better yourself, maybe your career has stalled, maybe your books seem to be falling flat, maybe you’re looking to take the next step…You are also in for a treat.

Learning how to use questions efficiently and effectively will revolutionize your life.

I’m not kidding.

But before we actually get into specifics, there are a few generalities about questions that you need to understand.

Every time I propose this workshop on THE POWER OF QUESTIONS, the coordinator always says, “Oh, you mean story question, right?” And I say, “No…well, yes, story question is in there, but there’s more to questions than just that one facet.”

More than anything else, learning how to ask good questions will set you up for life with a wealth of ideas.

Think it through. Does every idea you get become a book? If you’re like me, the answer is probably no. Not every idea comes full-blown. Not every idea is marketable.

But what if I were to tell you that by using a well constructed question you could just about assure that every idea you get could BECOME a great idea – not just a good idea, but a great idea? Or what if I told you that using the right question can help you take ideas you don’t think are marketable and turn them into marketable ideas?

Well, you’d probably kiss my feet! LOL

So questions can help you come up with great ideas, or turn lackluster, out-of-market ideas into great ideas.

But questions can also direct you. For instance, did you know that every type of book, genre and subgenre, has a core story question? And if you work with that core story question, you’ll not only write a tighter book; you’ll also write a more marketable book?

Did you know that YOUR BOOK should have a specific story question? Something that lures readers along?

And did you know that using scene or chapter questions can sharpen your story? Keep it from being boring? Prevent you from having purpose-less scenes?

Don’t limit your questions to the one facet of story question! Using all kinds of questions has the power to free your mind and to take your work to the next level.

So in this workshop, we’re going to take a look at all of them. Core story questions for your genre, individual story questions, scene questions and general, let’s-make-my-book-better questions! LOL But before we do that, I’d like you to take a look at your current WIP.

Do you have a story question? Is there a question in readers’ minds as they move through your story? Is there a question they want to have answered?

Do you know what the core story question is for your genre or subgenre? Is it clearly represented in your book?

After reading the first six or so scenes of your wip, can you see the scene questions?

If you answered no to any one of those, don’t worry! They may be there. You just don’t know it yet!

I realize it might be difficult to post answers to these questions, (LOL!) because they’re sort of your opinion at this point, but seriously read through at least the first six chapters of your book looking for your scene questions, your core story question, and the “story question” that should be guiding your readers along!

susan meier
A BABY BENEATH HIS CHRISTMAS TREE, Harlequin Romance, 11/10

***

CAT TAILS -- Should we call you Granny Sophia?

A few weeks ago, I noticed that our sweet Sophia, who is a warrior at heart, now has two white whiskers. It wouldn't be so bad, except they are glaringly obvious in a mostly black cat.

At first she took offense when we pointed them out. "You are getting older," we reminded her, and our reward for that comment was a dead chimpmunk on the back porch. It was as if she was saying, "Old? Let's see you do that! Heck, let's see Fat Fluff do that!"

Sophia isn't going to be one of those women who ages gracefully. Or maybe she is. It appears she's decided to simply ignore her age. She still hunts. (The neighbors love that she keeps the rodent population down.) She still wrestles Fluffy who outweighs her by at least five pounds -- he is REALLY fat -- and she wins.

So maybe sweet Sophia knows the real meaning of life. Just keep going. Keep doing what you were doing. Don't let age slow you down and meaningless whisker colors upset you!

***

COMING ATTRACTIONS!

Books!

I've told you a bit about A FAIRYTALE CHRISTMAS, an anthology with Barbara Wallace. An excerpt is at the end of the ezine.

But, in 2011, I have a special treat...at least it was a treat for me to write. Harlequin Romance is releasing my first 3-book series for them! BABIES IN THE BOARDROOM features 3 half-brothers, Darius, Nick and Cade Andreas. Because they have the same dad but different moms, they didn't really know about each other until the reading of their father's will where they discover there's a fourth 1/2 brother, baby Gino!

Book 1, THE BABY PROJECT, comes out in April.
Book 2, SECOND CHANCE BABY, comes out in May.
And book 3, A BABY ON THE RANCH comes out in June.

Watch for some special content to be posted on my website. There's a prologue for Nick's book, book 2 SECOND CHANCE BABY that didn't make the cut in edits, but which I know you will love. A cinnamon roll recipe that figures heavily in book 3, A BABY ON THE RANCH! And hopefully something a little special for book 1!

ONLINE WORKSHOPS

This year I'm doing things a bit differently with my online workshops. I'm only doing each workshop ONCE. I've given each group on exclusive for 2011. So if you miss it, you've missed it until 2012! So here are the four I've planned.

REMEMBER, IF YOU MISS IT, YOU MISS IT UNTIL 2012!

January:

This is the year you write that book! with Susan Meier

Dunes and Dreams RWA Chapter. Details aren't up on site yet, but I'm sure they will be soon!

http://dunesanddreams.org/writing-workshops/

Want to make 2011 the year you finally finish the novel that’s under the bed collecting dust? Or do you have a fresh, wonderful idea that you really want to see become a great book? Join Susan Meier for THIS IS THE YEAR YOU WRITE THAT BOOK and learn not only the basic crafting ins and outs of Plot, People, Polishing and Prestidigitation (tricks published authors use) but also get four lessons on the psychology of writing. The psychology of committing, drafting, pushing through the tough times and finishing. Make 2011 the year you write that book!

February

Story, Theme and Vehicle Mid Williamette Valley RWA Chapter http://www.midwillamettevalleyrwa.com/(info not up on their website yet!)

Have you ever written a book that was good, but simply didn’t seem good enough? Or one that wasn’t cohesive? Or one that should have been wonderful but seemed to fall flat? In Story, Theme and Vehicle, Susan Meier explains how knowing your book’s story type, story question, and the difference between its theme and its “vehicle” will keep your book focused. Learn the five easy steps to a synopsis and the four steps to a one-paragraph pitch.

April
http://starrwa.org/on-line-workshops/

April 4 – 29, 2011: Can This Manuscript be Saved
SUSAN MEIER IS ONLY OFFERING THIS CLASS ONCE IN 2011!
Instructor: Susan Meier
Deadline to Register: April 3, 2011

Course Content: Rejected? Can’t get an agent? Can’t sell, even though your critique partners LOVE your work? Susan Meier reviews the seven most common rejection catch phrases and explains how determining whether your problem is a story, scene or word problem, a first step on the road to recovery. She’ll shares tricks-of-the-trade to finding and fixing your errors before you submit. Following the assignments at the end of each lesson, attendees will learn how to “skim-read” their manuscripts quickly, marking specific problems with post-its. Susan also demonstrates how to use a storyboard, a list of twenty and a one-paragraph blurb to create a plan of attack for fixing your book’s trouble. She can’t revise or rewrite your manuscript for you, but with her tricks you’ll not only see how to revise the book of your heart; you’ll also see how published authors are able to write four, five and even six books a year without breaking a sweat!

August

Journey Steps. NEORWA (Info not up on site yet!)

http://www.neorwa.com/index.php/Workshops/Workshops

Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere Ever wonder what you’re supposed to “put” in between those four or five turning points of your story? Susan Meier’s Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere provides quick, easy solutions for any author who has ever wondered “now what?” Topics include the “magic formula” for plotting, the list of five, explanation of plot threads versus subplot and tricks for writing an “edge-of-the-seat” read. Learn to tell your story in one straight-forward paragraph that can be used for pitches! Beginners, intermediate and experienced authors will benefit from this workshop.

***

Excerpt

Chapter 1
For as long as Gwendolyn MacKenzie could remember the old timers in the tiny town of Towering Pines, West Virginia had whispered that Teaberry Christmas Tree Farm was enchanted. The rumor was that if you touched one of the Teaberry trees while wishing, your wish would come true.

Driving up the fir-lined mountain road that took her to the farm, Gwen glanced around in amazement, understanding why the legend had formed. Majestic evergreens punched into a vast indigo sky. Fat fluffy white snowflakes pirouetted around the green pine branches, falling heavily, like frosting on sugar cookies, creating a magical world.

But when she reached Teaberry mansion, Gwen’s mouth dropped open in dismay. Two rows of tall windows with thin black shutters dominated the huge red brick home, but the shutters tilted drunkenly from age and neglect. The Teaberry family hadn’t even visited for at least a decade. It didn’t surprise her that the house was in disrepair. But she’d thought Andrew Teaberry, her new boss, would have called ahead to have the place prepared to be used. If the house was this bad on the outside, she feared it would be worse on the inside.

Still, a wisp of smoke rose from the red brick chimney, disappearing into the inky sky, proof that the caretaker, Max Peabody, had started a fire in preparation for the owner’s return. At least she and her daughter wouldn’t spend their time shivering, while they waited for Drew Teaberry to arrive.

She got out of her beat up little red car and opened the back door, reaching in to unbuckle the car seat of her three-month-old baby. When she’d gotten pregnant by a boyfriend who’d bolted the very second she told him, Gwen and her twin sister Gill had both worried that she might fall into the same trap their mom had. Ginger MacKenzie had married the man who had gotten her pregnant. But when twins were born, he’d panicked, saying one baby was difficult enough to handle, two was impossible, and he’d left town. Leaving Ginger to raise the girls alone, watching out the window, longing for him to come home.

Six months after her mom’s sudden death, finding herself in a position very close to Ginger’s, Gwen had quickly shaped up. She didn’t want to be one of those women who wasted her entire life pining after a man who didn’t want her. She stopped believing in miracles. She stopped believing wishes came true. She packed her dreamy side away. And she now only dealt in facts.

Which was why she was at this rundown old house, about to start a job as the assistant for a man she’d never met. She had to pay her own way, support a child and finish her degree. This job might be temporary, but it paid enough money that if she watched how she spent, she could keep herself and Claire through her last semester of university.

“Hey, Claire-bear,” she said, lifting the little girl and rubbing noses. Bundled in her thick pink snowsuit, with the white fur of the hood framing her face, chubby, happy Claire really did look something like a stuffed pink bear.

Using the key sent to her by Andrew Teaberry, Gwen unlocked the front door and stepped inside. A huge curving mahogany staircase greeted her and Claire. But so did cobwebs. A layer of dust coated the banister and the stairs.

“Wow. We could be in big trouble, Claire-bear.”

Walking from room to room, her dismay grew. Though the lights worked, the sinks had water and the kitchen appliances had been plugged into electrical outlets and hummed with life, the house was filthy. Drew Teaberry might have instructed the caretaker to get the utilities turned on and the furnace working, but he’d forgotten about cleaning.

Discovering a suite in the back that had probably at one time been maid’s quarters, Gwen set Claire’s baby carrier on the dusty bare mattress of the single bed but lifted it back up again. She’d arrived an hour early, hoping to make a good impression but Drew Teaberry hadn’t yet arrived. If she hurried, she could race home for a vacuum cleaner, mop, broom, soap and dust cloths, and still have time to clean this suite enough that Claire could sleep here.

Two hours later, Andrew Teaberry pulled his shiny black SUV into the circular driveway in front of his family’s old homestead and his face fell in disgust. Pressed for time on this spur-of-the moment trip, he’d thought ahead enough to hire an assistant and have the caretaker open the place, but he hadn’t considered that Teaberry mansion might not be habitable.

“So this is the fabulous Teaberry Farm.” In the passenger’s seat of the SUV, Drew’s sixteen-year-old son Brody glanced around and snorted with derision. “Looks like a rat hole to me.”

Drew nearly squeezed his eye shut in frustration. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he had to move into this old monstrosity while he negotiated the purchase of a local manufacturing company, his ex-wife decided to get remarried, forcing Drew to keep their son for the entire month of her honeymoon. So while he negotiated to buy the business of crusty old Jimmy Lane, a West Virginia entrepreneur who only wanted to sell his business to someone who lived in West Virginia, he was saddled with a sassy sixteen-year-old.

Inserting the key into the back door lock, he glanced behind him at Brody, who was so engrossed in whatever he was doing with his cell phone that he didn’t even watch where he walked. Wearing a black knit cap over his yellow hair and a thick parka that seemed to swallow him whole, Brody was the complete opposite of his dark-haired, dark-eyed, always observant dad. The kid was going to step into traffic one day.

Brushing up against one of the pine trees beside the kitchen door as he pulled the key out of the door lock, Drew prayed that they both survived this month. He pushed open the door, stepped into a kitchen that looked like something out of a horror movie and froze.

“Mr. Teaberry!” The woman standing by the dusty kitchen counter winced. “I’d say welcome home, but I’m not sure that’s exactly appropriate, given the condition of the place.”

Drew blinked at yet another surprise this morning. Unless she was Max Peabody, the caretaker, this had to be his temporary administrative assistant, Gwen MacKenzie. In their phone interview, she’d told him she had one more semester of university to finish, so he’d pictured her as being a petite blonde sprite, someone who’d look only a little older than his son. Instead, he’d hired a classically beautiful woman with thick dark hair and catlike green eyes, who was built like every man’s fantasy come to life. A bright red sweater accented her ample bosom. Dark, low riding jeans caressed her perfect bottom. Her shoulder-length hair swung gaily when she moved.

He slid his laptop to an available counter, glancing around at the nightmare of a kitchen. The oak cabinets were solid, but coated in dust, so were the kitchen table and the four chairs around it. But, like the cabinets, the furniture and the ceramic floor tiles looked to be in good shape. The house wasn’t really falling apart, just dirty.

“Good morning. Sorry we’re late. We couldn’t get on the road until hours after what we’d planned.”

She batted her hand in dismissal. “Not a problem.”

Brody pushed into the kitchen behind his dad, not caring that he’d bumped into him. “Hey, babe, thought for sure you’d have muffins and coffee waiting.”

Drew blanched at his son’s disrespect. “Not only is Gwen not our cook, but we don’t call employees babe.”

“All right. Great. No babe.” Brody pulled his sunglasses down his nose and peered over the rim at Gwen. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“We don’t call employees sweetie, either!” Drew said, his temperature rising. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the kid was deliberately antagonizing him. “How about an apology?”

Brody glared at his dad. “Fine. I’m sorry. Why don’t you just write a list of rules so I know what the hell I can and can’t say this next month!”

With that he stormed through the kitchen, all but knocking the swinging door off its hinges as he punched through it.

Though Drew knew he should go after him, he had no idea what to say to this new version of Brody. That was part of the problem. Sixteen years ago, when his ex had moved herself and their son to Colorado, two thousand miles away from Drew, he’d protested. But in the end she hadn’t budged and his visits with Brody became something like two-week vacations spent on tropical islands or ski resorts.

They’d always gotten along well. Until this trip. Now, Brody was suddenly obnoxious. Drew had absolutely no idea what the heck was he going to do with him for the entire month of December. One-on-one in a house so far out in the country that it didn’t get cable, they were going to be miserable. Especially since Drew wasn’t even sure when or why Brody had turned into such a mouthy kid or where to start with discipline.

He did, however, know exactly what to say to an embarrassed employee. He turned to Gwen. “I apologize for my son’s behavior.”

“Not a big deal,” she said with a laugh. “He’s what? Fifteen? Sixteen? He’s testing the water. All kids do it.”

A steamroller of relief rumbled through Drew. At least the relationship with his temporary administrative assistant would be normal. Then she smiled at him, her pretty green eyes shining, her full lips winging upward, and everything male inside of Drew responded. Her thick, shiny dark hair framed a heart-shaped face with bright eyes, a pert nose and generous lips made for kissing.

Involuntarily, his gaze swept down the red sweater and tight jeans. He rarely went out and, when he did, the women he dated were nothing like Gwen. They were tall, cool blondes. Sophisticates. Models. Starlets. But there was no denying that this gorgeous brunette ignited a spark inside him, made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her--

He groaned inwardly. He wanted a normal working relationship with this woman! Plus, even if he was the kind to dabble in affairs, she was too young for him and an employee. If those weren’t enough, he had responsibilities as the Chairman of the Board of his grandfather’s conglomerate. The pressure of holding the top position in a global company left him no time for anything but work. That was why he’d only spent vacations with Brody. Why Brody had had time to change without Drew even realizing. Why he had to figure out how he’d handle him for the four long weeks in December.

“I think I’ll grab Brody and get our bags.”

***

Summer 2010!

2010-07-12T16:30:00.001-07:00

This summer I'm thrilled to be releasing a Duet from Harlequin. MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE is available in July and MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD is available in August!

I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved these two stories. I started off with a heroine, Liz Harper, who had run away (with her mom and sisters) from an abusive father. She'd married the perfect guy, Cain Nestor, but never told him about her past. Three weeks after they eloped, his brother was killed in an automobile accident and he fell into a deep depression. She stayed with him for three long years but when she miscarried their first child, she knew she needed support he couldn't give and she left him.

Fast forward three years. Cain is filthy rich (because all he does is work) and Liz owns her own house cleaning service. She's still in the beginning stages of her company, so she still does eight hours of cleaning every day. And who does she walk in on in his underwear? Her ex. His assistant had hired Liz to work for "the CEO of Cain Corporation" so she had no idea she was accepting a job to work with her ex.

The story is funny, yet gut wrenching, because she never told him about her past or the miscarriage and she has to face a lot of demons. But so does Cain. He knows he let her down. He loved her, but he let her down. If any two characters ever deserved a happy ending, it's these two.

Unless it's Mac Carmichael and Ellie Swanson. Ellie has such a honed sixth sense about people that her friends call her Magic. She was abused by a former boyfriend and met Liz when she ran to a charity Liz supports that helps abused women with kids. The charity couldn't help childless Ellie, so Liz took her in herself. Now, they're best friends and Ellie is Liz's second in command.

So when Liz goes on her honeymoon with Cain, Liz takes over Happy Maids and meets Mac. Because he's a business associate of Cain's, someone Cain has been trying to woo for a decade, Liz knows she can't disappoint Mac. She agrees to take the job at his house before he explains she'll also have to be a nanny to his two kids.

With the help of Cain's silly administrative assistant, Ava, Ellie not only manages to run Happy Maids, she also becomes a nanny for Mac's kids. Seeing Ellie with his kids, Mac realizes how special she is. But she's damaged and his life as a member of one of the richest families in the United States is anything but easy.

I hope you enjoy these books as much as I enjoyed writing them...And I hope you enjoy your summer. Take a book to the beach! And enjoy the rest of the ezine! I've posted a great lesson for the writers among us. Cat Tails this month focuses on my daughter's cat, Fluffy! And an excerpt from the first chapter of MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE is posted at the end.

Enjoy!

susan

***

Writing Tip

Journey Steps: Creating a Compelling Story (Or as I like to say. . .Taking the Train To Somewhere) is one of my most popular workshops. So I thought those of you who haven't taken it would enjoy the first lesson!

Lesson One: What are Journey Steps?

Lots of speakers, writers and pundits define plot points as four or five major events of your story, pivotal points, points of change or twists that take the story in a different direction. High points of the story.

Couldn't agree more. But when I would sit down to write a book, I'd come up with four or five 'high points' and have no idea what to put in between those high points. So I dug deeper and that's when I discovered 'Journey Steps.' Actually, I might have made them up. But they work, so you might want to try them too.

What are Journey Steps?

In Susan Meier World -- which is a little bit like a theme park but you have to 'work' on the rides -- Journey Steps are the steps it takes your main character (protagonist) to get from who he or she is at the opening of the book -- the inciting incident, the terrible trouble, the day/moment everything changed -- to who he or she is at the resolution of the trouble and the satisfying conclusion.

Note that I don't say it's all the steps from one plot point to another. . . though I could. I'd rather see the big picture of a story. The journey. And not put so much emphasis on those four or five points. Though obviously plot points do shake things up on the journey, they are still 'steps' and if I don't make a big deal out of them (LOL) I see my whole story unfolding as 'steps.' Plot points being more important steps, but still steps . . .

And steps are action, and action breeds a reaction and reaction breed decision, which always breed action, which breeds a reaction, which breeds a decision and on and on and on.

When I discovered this action/reaction/decision sequence in books by Jack Bickham and Dwight Swain, I started calling the sequence a magic formula for plotting because it is. If you follow action/reaction and decision, you can not only tell a story, you can tell it in a tight, focused way.

Which should be all of our goal!

But even when I figured all this stuff out, I still had a bit of trouble with my books. That’s when I discovered Story, Scene and Word.

Good grief! What the heck is Story, Scene and Word?

Story, Scene and Word are actually the three levels on which we write. If you want to write a good novel, you must be able to come up with a story, manifest that story through scenes and be able to build those scenes using words.

Coming up with a story, creating scenes and using words well are three distinct and definitely different skills, by the way. Right now, some of you are probably very good with coming up with stories, but you’re having trouble turning them into books because you might not be as good at dividing your stories into scenes. Or maybe you can write great scenes, but your “stories” aren’t as strong as they need to be. This might be what’s keeping your from publication, or slowing down your process.

For the purposes of understanding journey steps, words don't concern us. But scenes sure as heck do. Why? Because the basis of every scene should be a journey step. But even scenes don't yet concern us because before you can come up with scenes that manifest your story, you actually have to have a story.

Lots of people groan at that, but you have to know your story. For the pantsers among us, you don't have to get fancy and/or specific and do an outline that ruins your fun. In fact, the less fancy or specific you are the better. Having a one sentence or one paragraph description of your story is enough to begin figuring out journey steps. From there you can write each scene individually and come up with your journey steps as you go along. So your pantser fun isn't ruined!

But you have to know at least the bare bones of your story to come up with the "correct" first journey step. The important one that starts the book.

Okay, so what does a one-line or one-paragraph story description look like?

How about this: In my romantic suspense novel, the hero and heroine must catch a killer but she's already been arrested for the crime and he's the DA prosecuting her.

Short, succinct, no fun spoiling, but enough to come up with a great opening scene.

Here's another: Driving home from Vegas, where the heroine ran when she realized she didn't want to marry her fiancé, the hero and heroine are incredibly attracted. But in this SEXY CATEGORY ROMANCE, the hero won't do anything about the attraction because the heroine's ex-fiancé is his BOSS.

(By the way, I call this a story summary. Couldn't write a book without one!)

Once you have your one-paragraph or one-sentence idea, the "steps" or journey steps, are the way you tell that story. And basically you illustrate those "steps" in scenes.

Okay. You now know that in order to figure out your journey steps, you need to know your story -- at least the bare-bones idea. So, I'd like you to see if you can condense your story down to one line or one short, succinct paragraph that tells the kind of story it is (that’s why I “capped” the sexy category romance…to show you it doesn’t have to go at the beginning, though it can) and the overall GMC.

How do you do that?

Well, first...you never want to say the words 'The hero's goal is' or 'The Heroine's motivation is'. You want them to blend seamlessly into your sentence.

Remember our example? In my romantic suspense, the hero and heroine must catch a killer but she's already been arrested for the crime and he's the DA prosecuting her?

Do you know what their goal is? Yes, to catch a killer.

Do you know what their motivation is? Yes. . .They're trying to save her. Well, she's trying to save herself. He's trying to make sure the right person is prosecuted for the crime.

Do you know what their conflict is? Sure. They are on opposite sides of a battle for one. But also, they're running against the clock. So, they can't be attracted because of being on opposite ends of a battle. He WILL prosecute her if the evidence turns him in that direction. AND they don't have a lot of time.

Do you see how I took all that "stuff" and turned it into one sentence?

THAT'S what you need to do with your book!

That's your assignment. Rather than just read this post, try to put your book's concept into one sentence! You will be thrilled with what you will learn from this experiment!

***

Coming Attractions

I'm blogging

July 13 Cataromance
July 14 eHarlequin
July 20 Pink Heart Society
July 23 Tawney Webber

August 6 Heroines with Heart
August 11 Writing with the Top Down
August 11 eharlequin
August 26 Pink Heart Society

WORKSHOP in August:

STORY THEME AND VEHICLE writersonline.com

This is a great workshop. We really get down and dirty with figuring out your idea, seeing if you have enough for a story, and pulling it all together.

I haven't given it often. Maybe twice. So it's some fresh material for those of you who follow my workshops!

What you missed...

If you haven't been reading the Susan Meier blog you missed...

THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS finaled in the Gayle Wilson Award of Execllence Contest (March archives)

A size 14 in a size 0 world...very funny! (October archives)

Cookie Painting at Grandma's (November archives)

Christmas Cats (December archives)

Valentine's Day post...also very funny! (February)

Grubby kids at Easter! (April)

I attended the NOLA conference (which was fabulous!), Washington Romance Writers Conference (also fabulous!) and gave an hour-long talk for the New Jersey RWA chapter. I will be speaking to the STAR chapter in Melbourne, Florida this weekend!

Cat Tails

This edition we'll talk about my daughter's cat, Fluffy. It's not easy liviing with a cat named Sophia Maria Lolita Conchita Chequita Banana. She can be a tad vain. So Fluffy is more laid back. But he gets his licks in on Sophia! For one, he weighs eighteen pounds to her nine. When it comes to cat food, he's the ruler of the dish!

But what makes Fluffy really adorable is that he knows the sound of my daughter's car. We'll be watching TV, with him sleeping comfortably on the oval rug in the living room and suddenly he'll bolt up, his ears will go back and he'll race to the door. (Like a dog!)

Even cuter is the way he'll sit by the door when she's gone for more than her work shift. If she's on vacation or staying a weekend away, he will sit by the door, patiently waiting for her return.

He's the most loyal cat I've ever met!

Book Excerpts

MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE

Pink underwear?
Cain Nestor tossed his formerly white cotton briefs into the washer and slammed the door closed. Damn it! He should have stopped at the mall the night before and bought new, but it had been late when his private plane finally landed in Miami. Besides, back in Kansas he had done his own laundry plenty of times. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten so much in twelve years that he’d end up with pink underwear, but apparently he had.
Tightening the knot of the towel at his waist, he stormed out of the laundry room and into the kitchen just as the back door opened. From the pretty yellow ruffled apron that was the trademark of Happy Maids, he knew that his personal assistant was one step ahead of him again. He’d been without a housekeeper since February 1 – three long weeks. Though Eva had interviewed, he’d found something wrong with every person she’d chosen – his maid lived in and a man couldn’t be too careful about whom he let stay in his home – but the lack of clean underwear had clearly proven he’d hit a wall.
Leave it to his assistant to think of the stopgap measure. She’d hired a cleaning service.
Ready to make an apology for his appearance, Cain caught his once-a-week housekeeper’s gaze and his heart froze in his chest. His breathing stopped. His thigh muscles turned to rubber.
“Liz?”
Though her long black hair had been pulled into a severe bun at her nape and she’d lost a few pounds in the three years since he’d seen her, he’d know those catlike green eyes anywhere.
“Cain?”
A million questions danced through his head, but they were quickly replaced by recriminations. She’d quit a very good job in Philadelphia and moved with him to Miami when she’d married him. Now, she was a maid? Not even a permanently employed housekeeper. She was a fill-in. A stopgap measure.
And it was his fault.
He swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

Liz Harper blinked a few times, making sure her eyes were in focus and she really was seeing her ex-husband standing wrapped in only a towel in the kitchen of the house that was her first assignment for the day. He hadn’t changed a bit in three years. His onyx eyes still had the uncanny ability to make her feel he could see the whole way to her soul. He still wore his black hair short. And he still had incredible muscles that rippled when he moved. Broad shoulders. Defined pecs. And six-pack abs. All of which were on display at the moment.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You could start by saying, ‘Excuse my nakedness. I’ll just run upstairs and get a robe’.”
Remarkably, that made him laugh and myriad memories assaulted her…
The day they met on the flight from Dallas to Philadelphia…
How they’d exchanged business cards and he’d called her cell phone even before she was out of the airport...
How they’d had dinner that night, entered into a long-distance relationship, made love for the first time on the beach just beyond his beautiful Miami home, and married on the spur of the moment in Las Vegas.
And now she was his housekeeper.
Could a woman fall any farther?
Worse, she wasn’t in a position where she could turn down this job.
“Okay. I’ll just—“
“Do you think—“
They stopped. The scent of his soap drifted to her and she realized he hadn’t changed brands. More memories danced through her. The warmth of his touch. The seriousness of his kiss.
She cleared her throat. “You first.”
He shook his head. “No. Ladies first.”
“Okay.” She pulled in a breath. She didn’t have to tell him her secrets. Wouldn’t be so foolish again as to trust him with her dreams. If everything went well, she wouldn’t even have to see him. “Are you going to have a problem with this?”
He gripped his towel a little tighter. “You working for me or chatting about you working for me while I stand here just about naked?”
Her cheeks heated. The reminder that he was naked under one thin towel caused her blood to simmer with anticipation. For another two people that might be ridiculous three years after their divorce, but she and Cain had always had chemistry. Realistically, she knew it wouldn’t simply disappear. After all, it had been strong enough to coax a normally sensible Pennsylvania girl to quit her dream job and follow him to Miami, and strong enough that a typically reclusive entrepreneur had opened up and let her into his life.
“Me working here for you until you hire a new maid.” She motioned around the kitchen. The bronze and tan cut-glass backsplash accented tall cherry wood cabinets and bright stainless steel appliances. “Is that going to be a problem?”
He glanced at the ceramic tile floor then back up at her. “I’ve gotta be honest, Liz. It does make me feel uncomfortable.”
“Why? You’re not supposed to be here when I am. In fact, I was told you’re typically at the office by eight. It’s a fluke that we’ve even run into each other. And I need this job!”
“Which is exactly why I feel bad.”
That changed her blood from simmering with chemistry to boiling with fury. “You feel sorry for me?”
He winced. “Not sorry, per se—“
“Then sorry, per what?” But as the words tumbled out of her mouth she realized what was going on. Three steps got her to the big center island of his kitchen. “You think I fell apart when our marriage did and now I can only get a job as a maid?”
“Well—“
Three more steps had her standing in front of him. “Honey, I own this company. I am the original Happy Maid.”

August ezine

2010-06-24T16:05:00.001-07:00

MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD

Chapter 1
Ellie Swanson had not signed up for this.
Yes, she’d agreed to run Happy Maids while her boss, Liz Harper Nestor – took a well deserved honeymoon after remarrying her gorgeous ex-husband Cain. And, yes, she was perfectly capable of supervising the fourteen or so employees on Happy Maids’ payroll for the four weeks Liz would be in Paris. But she wasn’t authorized to make a change in the company’s business plan, as the man across the desk wanted her to do.
“I’m a friend of Cain’s.”
Of course he was. Tall and slender with perfect blue eyes and black hair cut short and businesslike, Mac Carmichael wore his tailored navy blue suit with the casual ease of a man accustomed to handmade suits, fine wines, and people taking his orders. Just like Cain.
“And he told me his wife’s company was the best in town.”
“But we’re a weekly cleaning service. We don’t place maids in clients’ homes.”
“You should.”
A bead of sweat rolled down Ellie’s back. The air conditioning had broken the day Liz left. But Ellie could handle the heat and humidity of June in Miami. What she couldn’t abide was failure. Her first day on the job and already she was turning away a client. An important client. A client who could not only tell Cain that Happy Maids hadn’t come through for him; he could also tell all his wealthy friends – the very people Liz would be marketing to when she returned.
Ellie leaned back on the chair, tapping a pencil on the desk blotter. “Explain again what you’re looking for.”
“My maid quit unexpectedly. I need to hire a temporary replacement while I interview for another one.”
“I can send someone to your house a few times a week to clean,” she said hopefully.
He shook his head. “I have a daughter and a son. They need breakfast every morning.”
“Then I’ll be happy to send someone every day at seven.”
“Lacy gets up at five.”
“Then I’ll have someone at four.”
“I work some nights.”
Ellie gaped at him. “You want the maid to be a nanny too?”
He caught her gaze. His sinfully blue eyes held hers and she fought the urge to swallow as pinpricks of attraction sparkled along her nerve endings.
“And live in.”
She gasped. “Live in?”
“I also pay very well.”
Ah, the magic words. A victim of domestic violence herself, Liz had gotten involved with A Friend Indeed, a charity that helped women transition out of their abusive homes and into new lives. It was a natural fit that Liz should begin employing the women from A Friend Indeed until they got on their feet. Ellie had actually been the first client Liz had hired through a meet at the charity. The company needed every job – especially the good paying ones – to provide work for all the women who wanted help.
Mac rose from his seat. “Look, if your firm can’t handle it, I’ll be on my way.”
He turned to the door.
Stop him!
She bounced out of her chair. “Wait.”
He faced her again. This time she did swallow. His eyes reminded her of the ocean in the dead of summer, calm and deep, and perfect blue. His dark hair gleamed in the sunlight pouring in from the window to his right. High cheekbones angled to blissfully full lips, the kind that made most women take a second glance and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. It should have been pure pleasure to look at him. Instead, the scowl on his face caused Ellie to doubt the intuition that guided her life.
“Yes?”
“I –“ Why had her intuition told her to stop him? She didn’t have anybody who could work as a maid/nanny. Most of Liz’s employees had kids of their own and homes to get back to every night. They couldn’t live in. And that’s what he needed.
“I – um – maybe we can work something out.”
His scowl grew even darker. “I don’t work things out.”
No kidding. She didn’t need intuition to tell her that.
“I want someone today.”
Don’t let him go.
She groaned inwardly, wondering why her sixth sense was so insistent on this. But accustomed to listening to the intuition that had saved her life, she couldn’t ignore it.
“I’ll do it.”
His scowl shifted into a look of confusion. “You?”
“I know I’m behind the desk today, but I’m only filling in for Cain’s wife Liz. She runs the business herself, but this month she’s on her honeymoon. I’m more than capable of cooking, cleaning and caring for children.”
His eyes held hers for another second or two. Then his gaze dipped from her face to her pretty red dress, and Ellie suddenly regretted her decision to wear something as exposing as the short strapless creation made more for having lunch with friends on a sunny sidewalk café than working in an office. But not having air conditioning had made the choice for her. How was she supposed to know a client would show up?
He smiled and all the air whooshed out of Ellie’s lungs. The temperature in her blood rose to an almost unbearable level. She could have melted where she stood. If this guy lived up north, snowflakes wouldn’t stand a chance against that smile.
“We have air conditioning, so you might want to change into jeans and a T-shirt.” He took a business card out of his jacket pocket, scribbled on the back and handed it to her. “That’s my home address. I’ll meet you there in an hour.” Then he turned and walked out the door.
Ellie collapsed on the office chair. Damn it! What had her intuition gotten her into? Now she not only had all of Liz’s work, she also had a full-time job. More than full-time! She had to live in!

Welcome to Summer 2010!

2010-04-08T05:27:00.000-07:00

This summer I'm thrilled to be releasing a Duet from Harlequin. MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE is available in July and MAID FOR THE SINGLE DAD is available in August!

I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved these two stories. I started off with a heroine, Liz Harper, who had run away (with her mom and sisters) from an abusive father. She'd married the perfect guy, Cain Nestor, but never told him about her past. Three weeks after they eloped, his brother was killed in an automobile accident and he fell into a deep depression. She stayed with him for three long years but when she miscarried their first child, she knew she needed support he couldn't give and she left him.

Fast forward three years. Cain is filthy rich (because all he does is work) and Liz owns her own house cleaning service. She's still in the beginning stages of her company, so she still does eight hours of cleaning every day. And who does she walk in on in his underwear? Her ex. His assistant had hired Liz to work for "the CEO of Cain Corporation" so she had no idea he was her ex.

The story is funny, yet gut wrenching, because she never told him about her past or the miscarriage and she has to face a lot of demons. But so does Cain. He knows he let her down. He loved her, but he let her down. If any two characters ever deserved a happy ending, it's these two.

Unless it's Mac Carmichael and Ellie Swanson. Ellie has such a honed sixth sense about people that her friends call her Magic. She was abused by a former boyfriend and met Liz when she ran to a charity Liz supports that helps abused women with kids. The charity couldn't help childless Ellie, so Liz took her in herself. Now, they're best friends and Ellie is Liz's second in command.

So when Liz goes on her honeymoon with Cain, Ellie takes over Happy Maids and meets Mac. Because he's a business associate of Cain's, someone Cain has been trying to woo for a decade, Ellie knows she can't disappoint Mac. She agrees to take the job at his house before he explains she'll also have to be a nanny to his two kids.

With the help of Cain's silly administrative assistant, Ava, Ellie not only manages to run Happy Maids, she also becomes a nanny for Mac's kids. Seeing Ellie with his kids, Mac realizes how special she is. But she's damaged and his life as a member of one of the richest families in the United States is anything but easy.

It's one of those cases where it looks like a compromise won't ever be found, until a bomb threat shows them what's really important and how to work to get it.

I hope you enjoy these books as much as I enjoyed writing them...And I hope you enjoy your summer. Take a book to the beach! And enjoy the rest of the ezine! I've posted a great lesson for the writers among us. Cat Tails this month focuses on my daughter's cat, Fluffy! And an excerpt from the first chapter of MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE is posted at the end.

Enjoy!

susan

***

Writing Tip

Journey Steps: Creating a Compelling Story (Or as I like to say. . .Taking the Train To Somewhere) is one of my most popular workshops. So I thought those of you who haven't taken it would enjoy the first lesson!

Lesson One: What are Journey Steps?

Lots of speakers, writers and pundits define plot points as four or five major events of your story, pivotal points, points of change or twists that take the story in a different direction. High points of the story.

Couldn't agree more. But when I would sit down to write a book, I'd come up with four or five 'high points' and have no idea what to put in between those high points. So I dug deeper and that's when I discovered 'Journey Steps.' Actually, I might have made them up. But they work, so you might want to try them too.

What are Journey Steps?

In Susan Meier World -- which is a little bit like a theme park but you have to 'work' on the rides -- Journey Steps are the steps it takes your main character (protagonist) to get from who he or she is at the opening of the book -- the inciting incident, the terrible trouble, the day/moment everything changed -- to who he or she is at the resolution of the trouble and the satisfying conclusion.

Note that I don't say it's all the steps from one plot point to another. . . though I could. I'd rather see the big picture of a story. The journey. And not put so much emphasis on those four or five points. Though obviously plot points do shake things up on the journey, they are still 'steps' and if I don't make a big deal out of them (LOL) I see my whole story unfolding as 'steps.' Plot points being more important steps, but still steps . . .

And steps are action, and action breeds a reaction and reaction breed decision, which always breed action, which breeds a reaction, which breeds a decision and on and on and on.

When I discovered this action/reaction/decision sequence in books by Jack Bickham and Dwight Swain, I started calling the sequence a magic formula for plotting because it is. If you follow action/reaction and decision, you can not only tell a story, you can tell it in a tight, focused way.

Which should be all of our goal!

But even when I figured all this stuff out, I still had a bit of trouble with my books. That’s when I discovered Story, Scene and Word.

Good grief! What the heck is Story, Scene and Word?

Story, Scene and Word are actually the three levels on which we write. If you want to write a good novel, you must be able to come up with a story, manifest that story through scenes and be able to build those scenes using words.

Coming up with a story, creating scenes and using words well are three distinct and definitely different skills, by the way. Right now, some of you are probably very good with coming up with stories, but you’re having trouble turning them into books because you might not be as good at dividing your stories into scenes. Or maybe you can write great scenes, but your “stories” aren’t as strong as they need to be. This might be what’s keeping your from publication, or slowing down your process.

For the purposes of understanding journey steps, words don't concern us. But scenes sure as heck do. Why? Because the basis of every scene should be a journey step. But even scenes don't yet concern us because before you can come up with scenes that manifest your story, you actually have to have a story.

Lots of people groan at that, but you have to know your story. For the pantsers among us, you don't have to get fancy and/or specific and do an outline that ruins your fun. In fact, the less fancy or specific you are the better. Having a one sentence or one paragraph description of your story is enough to begin figuring out journey steps. From there you can write each scene individually and come up with your journey steps as you go along. So your pantser fun isn't ruined!

But you have to know at least the bare bones of your story to come up with the "correct" first journey step. The important one that starts the book.

Okay, so what does a one-line or one-paragraph story description look like?

How about this: In my romantic suspense novel, the hero and heroine must catch a killer but she's already been arrested for the crime and he's the DA prosecuting her.

Short, succinct, no fun spoiling, but enough to come up with a great opening scene.

Here's another: Driving home from Vegas, where the heroine ran when she realized she didn't want to marry her fiancé, the hero and heroine are incredibly attracted. But in this SEXY CATEGORY ROMANCE, the hero won't do anything about the attraction because the heroine's ex-fiancé is his BOSS.

(By the way, I call this a story summary. Couldn't write a book without one!)

Once you have your one-paragraph or one-sentence idea, the "steps" or journey steps, are the way you tell that story. And basically you illustrate those "steps" in scenes.

Okay. You now know that in order to figure out your journey steps, you need to know your story -- at least the bare-bones idea. So, I'd like you to see if you can condense your story down to one line or one short, succinct paragraph that tells the kind of story it is (that’s why I “capped” the sexy category romance…to show you it doesn’t have to go at the beginning, though it can) and the overall GMC.

How do you do that?

Well, first...you never want to say the words 'The hero's goal is' or 'The Heroine's motivation is'. You want them to blend seamlessly into your sentence.

Remember our example? In my romantic suspense, the hero and heroine must catch a killer but she's already been arrested for the crime and he's the DA prosecuting her?

Do you know what their goal is? Yes, to catch a killer.

Do you know what their motivation is? Yes. . .They're trying to save her. Well, she's trying to save herself. He's trying to make sure the right person is prosecuted for the crime.

Do you know what their conflict is? Sure. They are on opposite sides of a battle for one. But also, they're running against the clock. So, they can't be attracted because of being on opposite ends of a battle. He WILL prosecute her if the evidence turns him in that direction. AND they don't have a lot of time.

Do you see how I took all that "stuff" and turned it into one sentence?

THAT'S what you need to do with your book!

That's your assignment. Rather than just read this post, try to put your book's concept into one sentence! You will be thrilled with what you will learn from this experiment!

***

Coming Attractions

I'm blogging

July 6 Cataromance
July 10 at Petticoats and Pistols
July 14 eHarlequin
July 20 Pink Heart Society

August 6 Heroines with Heart
August 11 Writing with the Top Down
August 11 eharlequin
August 26 Pink Heart Society

WORKSHOP:

STORY THEME AND VEHICLE writersonline.com

This is a great workshop. We really get down and dirty with figuring out your idea, seeing if you have enough for a story, and pulling it all together.

I haven't given it often. Maybe twice. So it's some fresh material for those of you who follow my workshops!

What you missed...

If you haven't been reading the Susan Meier blog you missed...

THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS finaled in the Gayle Wilson Award of Execllence Contest (March archives)

A size 14 in a size 0 world...very funny! (October archives)

Cookie Painting at Grandma's (November archives)

Christmas Cats (December archives)

Valentine's Day post...also very funny! (February)

Grubby kids at Easter! (April)

I attended the NOLA conference (which was fabulous!), Washington Romance Writers Conference (also fabulous!) and gave an hour-long talk for the New Jersey RWA chapter.

Cat Tails

This edition we'll talk about my daughter's cat, Fluffy. It's not easy liviing with a cat named Sophia Maria Lolita Conchita Chequita Banana. She can be a tad vain. So Fluffy is more laid back. But he gets his licks in on Sophia! For one, he weights eighteen pounds to her nine. When it comes to cat food, he's the ruler of the dish!

But what makes Fluffy really adorable is that he knows the sound of my daughter's car. We'll be watching TV, with him sleeping comfortably on the oval rug in the living room and suddenly he'll bolt up, his ears will go back and he'll race to the door. (Like a dog!)

Even cuter is the way he'll sit by the door when she's gone for more than her work shift. If she's on vacation or staying a weekend away, he will sit by the door, patiently waiting for her return.

He's the most loyal cat I've ever met!

Book Excerpts

MAID FOR THE MILLIONAIRE

Pink underwear?
Cain Nestor tossed his formerly white cotton briefs into the washer and slammed the door closed. Damn it! He should have stopped at the mall the night before and bought new, but it had been late when his private plane finally landed in Miami. Besides, back in Kansas he had done his own laundry plenty of times. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten so much in twelve years that he’d end up with pink underwear, but apparently he had.
Tightening the knot of the towel at his waist, he stormed out of the laundry room and into the kitchen just as the back door opened. From the pretty yellow ruffled apron that was the trademark of Happy Maids, he knew that his personal assistant was one step ahead of him again. He’d been without a housekeeper since February 1 – three long weeks. Though Eva had interviewed, he’d found something wrong with every person she’d chosen – his maid lived in and a man couldn’t be too careful about whom he let stay in his home – but the lack of clean underwear had clearly proven he’d hit a wall.
Leave it to his assistant to think of the stopgap measure. She’d hired a cleaning service.
Ready to make an apology for his appearance, Cain caught his once-a-week housekeeper’s gaze and his heart froze in his chest. His breathing stopped. His thigh muscles turned to rubber.
“Liz?”
Though her long black hair had been pulled into a severe bun at her nape and she’d lost a few pounds in the three years since he’d seen her, he’d know those catlike green eyes anywhere.
“Cain?”
A million questions danced through his head, but they were quickly replaced by recriminations. She’d quit a very good job in Philadelphia and moved with him to Miami when she’d married him. Now, she was a maid? Not even a permanently employed housekeeper. She was a fill-in. A stopgap measure.
And it was his fault.
He swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

Liz Harper blinked a few times, making sure her eyes were in focus and she really was seeing her ex-husband standing wrapped in only a towel in the kitchen of the house that was her first assignment for the day. He hadn’t changed a bit in three years. His onyx eyes still had the uncanny ability to make her feel he could see the whole way to her soul. He still wore his black hair short. And he still had incredible muscles that rippled when he moved. Broad shoulders. Defined pecs. And six-pack abs. All of which were on display at the moment.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “You could start by saying, ‘Excuse my nakedness. I’ll just run upstairs and get a robe’.”
Remarkably, that made him laugh and myriad memories assaulted her…
The day they met on the flight from Dallas to Philadelphia…
How they’d exchanged business cards and he’d called her cell phone even before she was out of the airport...
How they’d had dinner that night, entered into a long-distance relationship, made love for the first time on the beach just beyond his beautiful Miami home, and married on the spur of the moment in Las Vegas.
And now she was his housekeeper.
Could a woman fall any farther?
Worse, she wasn’t in a position where she could turn down this job.
“Okay. I’ll just—“
“Do you think—“
They stopped. The scent of his soap drifted to her and she realized he hadn’t changed brands. More memories danced through her. The warmth of his touch. The seriousness of his kiss.
She cleared her throat. “You first.”
He shook his head. “No. Ladies first.”
“Okay.” She pulled in a breath. She didn’t have to tell him her secrets. Wouldn’t be so foolish again as to trust him with her dreams. If everything went well, she wouldn’t even have to see him. “Are you going to have a problem with this?”
He gripped his towel a little tighter. “You working for me or chatting about you working for me while I stand here just about naked?”
Her cheeks heated. The reminder that he was naked under one thin towel caused her blood to simmer with anticipation. For another two people that might be ridiculous three years after their divorce, but she and Cain had always had chemistry. Realistically, she knew it wouldn’t simply disappear. After all, it had been strong enough to coax a normally sensible Pennsylvania girl to quit her dream job and follow him to Miami, and strong enough that a typically reclusive entrepreneur had opened up and let her into his life.
“Me working here for you until you hire a new maid.” She motioned around the kitchen. The bronze and tan cut-glass backsplash accented tall cherry wood cabinets and bright stainless steel appliances. “Is that going to be a problem?”
He glanced at the ceramic tile floor then back up at her. “I’ve gotta be honest, Liz. It does make me feel uncomfortable.”
“Why? You’re not supposed to be here when I am. In fact, I was told you’re typically at the office by eight. It’s a fluke that we’ve even run into each other. And I need this job!”
“Which is exactly why I feel bad.”
That changed her blood from simmering with chemistry to boiling with fury. “You feel sorry for me?”
He winced. “Not sorry, per se—“
“Then sorry, per what?” But as the words tumbled out of her mouth she realized what was going on. Three steps got her to the big center island of his kitchen. “You think I fell apart when our marriage did and now I can only get a job as a maid?”
“Well—“
Three more steps had her standing in front of him. “Honey, I own this company. I am the original Happy Maid.”

The Magic of a Family Christmas

2009-10-17T09:21:00.000-07:00

I thought it was very appropriate that my November release was titled THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS.

For me, the "holiday" season begins in November. It used to begin in August! Back when my kids were younger, I'd "layaway" everything they needed for Christmas and gave myself months to pay for it. By the time I picked it up, the gifts were even a surprise to me because I'd forgotten most of what I'd bought. LOL

But as my kids and I get older, I really don't begin preparations until November. If you start too early, you stretch the mood too thin. But, if you "open the season" in November, beginning with shopping for and preparing a wonderful Thanksgiving meal for family, you open a season that continues for the next four weeks with shopping, parties, wrapping gifts, attending parties, visiting and baking . . . and ends with a New Years Eve party!

You get six or so weeks of wonderful time with family and friends that really does feel like a holiday!

My mother hosts one of my favorite holiday traditions. The day after Thanksgiving when lots of my nieces and sisters are shopping for those Black Friday bargains, my mother hosts her grandkids and greatgrandkids in a cookie painting day.

She bakes "shaped" sugar cookies and prepares different colored icings for the kids to paint onto the cookies. There's a segment about this in the back of THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS, including my mom's recipes for both the cookies and the icings.

Anyway, when the cookies are iced and cooled, they loop ribbons through them so they can be hung on her cookie and candy tree in the family room. It's a fabulous tradition that has become one of the most special memories for all my mother's kids, grandkids and great grandkids!

To me that's the real "magic" of Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I love a good gift! But the get togethers are more fun for me. The traditions that bring us back to our roots and reminds us of all the good things in our lives...the good things we've had for decades. So that we can appreciate them and each other.

That's why I was so thrilled with the title of my November release. THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS...I couldn't have said it better myself!

susan

* * *

NOVEMBER WRITING TIP!

A few years ago, I wrote a workshop called, THIS IS THE YEAR YOU WRITE THAT BOOK! When I was looking through my writing material for something to share with you this month, I realized the first lesson COMMITTING, is actually a mini goal setting workshop. Because we're coming up on the beginning of a new year when many of you may want to set some new goals, I thought this might have some insights for you as you ponder new goals for 2010!

Enjoy!

Lesson One: Committing

The first step you must take to assure that this is the year you will write your book is to make a commitment. Believe it or not, you're already halfway there. How do I know that? Well, nearly all the pundits agree that there are seven steps to goal setting.

1. Decide what you really want
2. Write your goals out on paper
3. Determine the price you have to pay
4. Make a plan
5. Take action immediately
6. Do something every day that takes you to your goal
7. Resolve in advance that you will never quit.

When you signed up for this class, technically you were telling yourself that you wanted to write a novel, an entire novel, this year.

You did step 1. You…Decided what you wanted. Then you did step two. You wrote it out on paper (cyber paper when you signed up for this workshop). You determined the price by paying a workshop fee and recognizing that you were committing yourself to four weeks of lessons, as well as the price of one year's time. (To write your book!)

You're pretty much depending upon me for some assistance with number four - - the "plan" end of things, and I'm going to hold to my end of the bargain by giving you tons of information in the next seven lessons. You will get both motivational ideas and crafting tools that will enable you to create your plan to write a book this year.

But to cement your commitment, you need to finish the seven steps.

The three things left for you to do are:

5. Take action immediately
6. Do something everyday that takes you to your goal
7. Resolve in advance that you will never quit.

So, pause, raise your right hand and repeat after me. Today, I will take action immediately on my book. I also promise to do something everyday that will take me closer to my goal of completing a novel this year. And I also resolve, not promise, not hope, but resolve that I will never quit.

Put your hand down and realize that unless you intend to break another promise to the most important person in your world (you) you're going to write a book this year.

But before I tell you to get the heck off the Internet and start writing, let's talk a little bit about why I want you to promise me you will take some sort of action immediately, do something everyday that takes you another step closer to your goal and also to resolve in advance that you will never quit.

Why do I believe steps five through seven are the most important steps of goal setting?

Because anybody can know what they want, anybody can write out those goals on paper, anybody can determine the price he or she has to pay and anybody can make a plan. But not everybody can take action immediately, discipline himself to do something everyday and resolve in advance that he or she will never quit.

These last three steps, taking action, disciplining yourself to do something every day and resolving never to quit are the hardest part of any goal because they are the engine of the goal.

Let’s start by examining step five: Take action immediately.

Why is that so important? Why is that part of the engine of your goal setting process? Because, quite simply, by actually taking action on your goal, you physically say you are committed. You tell yourself you believe you can do this.

If you don’t take action immediately, there’s always a question mark. Sure, you said you could write your book this year, but you haven’t even turned on the computer, so do you really think that you can write a book this year? Or were you wishful thinking again? Do you really have faith in yourself? And if you don’t…why the heck did you torture yourself by making a promise you don't believe you can keep?

I think you know you can do this. I think you know it's physically possible to write a book in a year. After all, at one page a day, you would have 365 pages at the end of a year. That's not hard at all. It makes writing a book very doable.

Taking an action immediately is like saying: I know it's possible so I'm going to take the first step. I can do this.

So… Do it!

But there’s another reason to take action immediately. The beginning of any project is the hardest. Once you set your goal and then take action by doing something, the difficult hurdle of “beginning” is handled. Your goal no longer seems like something off in the distance. Instead, it’s something you’ve already started.

It becomes real, manageable, and you begin to feel the sense of ownership necessary to commit for the long haul.

Simply put, step five, take action immediately, speaks of self-confidence and commitment!

But so does Step six: Do something every day to take you closer to your goal. Except it doesn’t merely speak to commitment, it also has two other advantages.

First, doing something every day, a piece of your project every day, breaks your work down into manageable increments and pieces, and teaches you that any task can be completed when taken one step at a time.

Second, working on your goal every day keeps you involved in your goal. You can’t forget it. But more than that, you can’t fall behind. At least not so far behind that you feel overwhelmed. Working on your goal everyday keeps you active, involved and moving toward the prize.

And that usually ends procrastination. Do you know why? Because most of us procrastinate out of a feeling of overwhelm. Consistently and consciously doing something everyday that takes you toward your goal eliminates overwhelm. And if you're never overwhelmed you'll probably have no trouble getting yourself to sit down every day and write at least one page.

But if you begin talking yourself out of your daily portion, if you don't do something everyday, then that work begins to stack up. When you sit down to write, instead of having one page to write, your quota is now one page for today and one for yesterday. And then your portion doesn't seem so easy anymore, and then you might just blow off another day and another until you're so far behind you can't work at all. You're paralyzed. (Sound familiar?) Instead of floating along, maybe even getting ahead because some days you can write more than your quota, you find yourself in yet another uphill battle!

So the trick is…Do something every day to take you closer to your goal. Don't let yourself miss a day!

Step Seven: Resolve in advance never to quit. No matter how difficult things get.

This step is the best. The resolution to keep going, no matter how defeated you feel, no matter how far your faith has depreciated, will actually walk you through the hard times. It will get you through the times when you want to quit, when you feel like it’s pointless, when your back has been broken by criticism or a rejection.

Face it. You are going to have days when you don’t feel like doing your daily portion. You will have days when your plan seems insane. You will get rejections, hear of friends who sold or got agents, get poor critiques, lose contests and face every form of hurdle known to writerkind.

But… If you’ve made the vow that you will not quit, that you will stick it out for your year -- or until your book is written -- then you will see yourself not merely face, but also overcome (or outlast) hurdles that might have otherwise defeated you!

Truthfully, I face a "hard time" every week. Every darned week something potentially work stopping happens at my house!

For instance, my husband has so many vacation days that he surprises me by taking weeks off. Weeks. Entire weeks! Weeks when I have deadlines and don't want him under foot!

My children have gotten sick. Editors have quit. Manuscripts have gotten lost. Chapters haven't worked the way I thought they would. Endings have been wrong. Outlines haven't worked. But I didn't quit. (Otherwise, I wouldn't have over forty books published.) I had made a promise to myself years ago that I would provide my share of the income (in the form of the monthly mortgage) as a writer and I have done it by keeping that promise that I made to myself.

That's commitment. Doing what you say you are going to do. Keeping the promises you make. The funny thing is we CAN AND DO keep promises that we make to our kids, the PTO, our parents, our pastor, even the bank, but we don't follow through on things like watching our weight, taking vitamins, maintaining an exercise program, pursuing our art -- the very promises that should be the most important to us because they don't merely sustain our physical person, they also nurture our souls.

Then we wonder why we're tired, depressed, defeated.

If you do nothing else this year…for once…keep the promises you make to yourself.

And that takes us to today's assignment. Make your commitment to this book this year. Really make the commitment. Don't merely pay lip service. Realize that your goal of writing, revising, polishing your book is possible. It's not a stretch. It's an accomplishment, but you've got an entire year and you can break your project down whatever way it needs to be broken down, and work incrementally. Realize also that you are worth a couple of hours every day. You're worth the effort.

Take your first action toward the goals you’ve set. Make the initial calls, write the first few pages, start a synopsis, buy the crafting book, find the Internet sites for research…Take all those first steps.

Then resolve to continue to do something every day.

And then resolve never to quit.

Keep this promise you've made to yourself. Not for anybody but you. Not for any reason other than you count. So does your book. Somebody might be waiting for it.

* * *

What you missed...

If you haven't been to susanmeier.com lately you missed...

A recipe from my sister at the Homecooking Blog...
As well as my "made up" Easy, Peasy Ham Pot Pie recipe...
The story of the sprinkle we gave for my mother...
A blog about eliminating writer's block...

The announcement that HER BABY'S FIRST CHRISTMAS tied for first place in the MORE THAN MAGIC CONTEST!

The announcement of my new 3-book contract.

My 2 new speaking engagements for next year...2010 Written in the Stars Conference in Louisiana March 5th and 6th and the WRW conference in April.

* * *

CAT TAILS!!!

Last month the spotlight was on Sophia. Today, it's Fluffy's turn. Fluffy's real name is Fluffy Doodle...like Yankee Doodle, without the feather in the cap or the macaroni.

Sarah and I had both longed for a cat, but my husband didn't really like cats and he constantly vetoed us. Then a week after Sarah got her driver's license I sent her for tomato sauce and forty-five minutes later she hadn't returned. I'd promised to take her to the mall to get her new "cheerleading" shoes so I knew she wouldn't dilly dally.

I started calling the hospitals and we found Sarah at Conemaugh. Furious that no one had contacted us, we raced to the hospital where they told us we had to wait to see her. We sat for an hour, totally convinced by this time that she was dead or dying.

Finally, we ventured up to the nurses station and asked about Sarah and the nurse was surprised no one had called our names. We could go right back.

We were so relieved we raced back and when my husband saw Sarah he blurted, "Anything you want you can have it!" (Silly man.) Though she had a concussion and torn ligiments, Sarah had the presence of mind to say, "Can I have a cat?" And my husband was stuck!

We got two cats, Fluffy and Basil. We had to put Basil to sleep a year or so later, but that's another Cat Tails.

Anyway, Fluffy is absolutely Sarah's best guy. He sleeps on the foot of her bed, waits by the door for her when it's time for her to come home and knows the sound of her car! It's amazing.

Fluffy is also the inspiration for Creamsickle, the cat with the bell in THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS.

* * *

EXCERPT from THE MAGIC OF A FAMILY CHRISTMAS!

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Wendy Winston twisted the key to silence her small car and turned to the boy on the seat beside her. Six-year-old Harry Martin blinked at her from behind brown-framed glasses. A knit cap covered his short yellow hair. His blue eyes were far too serious to be those of a child. A thick winter coat swallowed his thin body. His mittened hand clutched a bag of toy soldiers. "I'm really sorry to have to bring you to work." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "S'okay." She wanted to say not really. It wasn't okay that he'd be forced to sit and play with his plastic soldiers for God only knew how long while she worked. It wasn't okay that he'd lost his mom. Or that Betsy's lawyer had been out of town when she'd died. It had been four weeks before Attorney Costello had finally called to tell Wendy that Betsy had granted her custody of Harry in her will, and another few days before social services could pull him out of his foster home and give Wendy custody—and then only temporarily.
Regardless of what Betsy's will said, Harry's biological father's rights superseded her custody bequest. But no one knew where Harry's dad was, so, for now, Wendy had a child who needed her, and, for the first time in two years, she had someone to anticipate Christmas with. Though social services was searching for Harry's dad, Wendy believed she and Harry could have as long as a month to shop, bake cookies and decorate. If it killed her she would make it the best month before Christmas this little boy had ever had.

She smiled. "I promise I'll make this up to you."

"Can we bake cookies?"

Her heart soared. It seemed that what he needed done for him was what she needed to do. They were the perfect combination. Maybe fate wasn't so despicable after all.

"You bet we can bake cookies. Any kind you want."

Wicked wind battered them with freezing rain as they raced across the icy parking lot to the executive entrance for Barrington Candies. Juggling her umbrella and her purse as they ran toward the door, she rummaged for her key, but before she found it, the right side of the glass double doors burst open.

Cullen Barrington stood in the entryway. Six foot three, with black hair and eyes every bit as dark, and wearing a pale-blue sweater that was probably cashmere, the owner of Barrington Candies was the consummate playboy. He was rich, handsome and rarely around, assigning her boss Paul McCoy the task of managing the day-to-day operations of the company while he handled the big-picture details from the comfort of his home in Miami. Cullen was also so tight with money that no one in the plant had gotten a raise since control of Barrington Candies had been handed to him by his mother.

Scrooge.

That's what she'd taken to calling the man who'd summoned her to work on a Saturday afternoon. Even though he'd surprised everyone with his offer to fill in for her boss so Mr. McCoy could take an extended Christmas vacation, Wendy wasn't fooled into thinking he'd changed his ways and become generous. Though he'd probably called her in today to prepare before he took over on Monday morning, he'd paid no thought to the fact that she would lose her day off. She'd lose precious minutes with Harry. She'd lose the chance for them to enjoy whatever time they had together, and maybe even the chance for her to show him life wasn't entirely bad, just parts of it.

Even if, some days, she didn't quite believe that herself.

Occupied with her thoughts, she slipped on the ice and plowed into Cullen. She braced her hand on his chest to stop her forward momentum and it sank into the downy cashmere covering the hard muscle of his chest. His body was like a rock.

Confused, because she thought all rich men were soft and pampered, she looked up. He glanced down. And everything inside Wendy stilled. She swore the world stopped revolving. As dark as moonless midnight, his eyes held hers. Her femininity stirred inside her.

That confused her even more. She hadn't felt anything for a man since her husband's death, and Cullen Barrington was the last man on the planet she wanted to be attracted to. A playboy from Miami? No thanks. She'd glimpsed him a time or two in the four years she'd been working for his company and never felt anything but distaste at the way he treated his employees. She had no idea what was going on with her hormones, but it had to be an aberration of some sort.

She stepped away, and as the door swung closed behind her a bell rang.

Funny, she didn't remember a bell being on that door.

She turned to investigate and sure enough someone had tied a bell to the spring mechanism at the top of the door.

Probably Wendell, the janitor, making sure he'd be alerted if one of the executives sneaked in to check up on him.

"Why did you bring your little boy?"

She pulled off her mittens. "Oh, I don't know. Because I wasn't supposed to be working today? Because it's such short notice that I couldn't get a sitter?" She shrugged. "Take your pick."

His gorgeous eyes narrowed. He obviously didn't like her speaking so freely with him.

Wendy almost groaned at her stupidity. A single woman who might get custody of a little boy couldn't afford to be fired!

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just cold and I had things to do. So tell me what you want to work on and we can get started."

"I'd like to catch up on what's been going on, so I'll need production schedules and the financials. Once you help me find those, you can go home."

He didn't smile. Didn't give any reason at all for her heart to catch at the smooth baritone of his voice, but it did. Her entire body felt warm and soft, feminine in response to his masculinity.

She stepped back. She did not want to be attracted to him. It had taken her two long, miserable years to get over Greg's death. And she refused to go through the misery of loss again by being attracted to a playboy who—as sure as the sun rises every day—would dump her.

Of course, she might not be attracted to Cullen as much as she was simply waking up from the sexual dead. It had been two years. And she had been feeling like her normal self for at least three months. Maybe this was just a stage?

She peeked at Cullen, knowing that beneath that soft sweater was a very hard male body. Something sweet and syrupy floated through her. Moving her gaze upward, she met his simmering dark eyes and knew she could get lost in them.

She swallowed. Nope. Not a stage. It was him. She was attracted to him.

He turned to walk back to the office. Following him, she caught Harry's hand and brought him along with her.

"As far as the financials go, I don't want those fancy reports that go out in the annual statement. I want the spreadsheets. The nuts and bolts."

She stopped with a frown. She had access to everything, but if he was looking for the whys behind the line entries, she couldn't help him. "Why didn't you call Nolan, the accountant?"

He faced her. "Are you saying you can't get me the financials?"

"No. I have them. Everything is in my filing cabinet. But—"

She stopped talking. First, his eyes were simmering sexily again and her whole body began to hum—which made her want to groan in frustration. Second, she was making this harder than it had to be. All she had to do was find a few documents for him. The faster she found them, the sooner she'd be at home making cookies.

She squeezed Harry's hand. "I can get you anything you need."

"Thank you."

Cullen turned and resumed his walk to the executive suite. Wendy and Harry scurried behind him.

In her office, she stripped off her coat and removed Harry's. Cullen stood patiently by her desk as she rummaged through her purse for the key to the filing cabinet. Walking over, she noticed the door to her boss's office was open. Papers were strewn across his desk.

"Oh, you're already working?"

Cullen nodded. "I typed a few letters. But there isn't a printer in the office. I'm guessing I have to send my things to a remote printer, but I'm not sure which one is which."

"E-mail them to me and I'll print them."

"Why don't you just come to the computer with me and show me which printer to send them to?"

Okay. So he didn't want her to see what he'd written. No big deal. Whatever he wanted to print was probably personal. Not her business. She not only got the message; she also agreed. The less she knew about this man and the faster she got away from him, the better.

She unlocked the cabinet, pulled out the accordion file that contained the backup documentation for the financials for the year that had passed and handed it to him.

He glanced at the packet, then back up at her. Her stomach flip-flopped. His eyes were incredible. Dark. Shiny. Sexy. And the perfect complement to his angular face. He had the look of a matador. Strong. Bold. Everything about him was dramatic, male.

"Is the forecast in here?"

With a quick shake of her head, she rid herself of those ridiculous thoughts, not sure where the heck they kept coming from but knowing they were absolutely wrong. She returned her attention to the open drawer and pulled the file folder for the five-year plan. "Here you go."

"Great."

Cullen took the folder from her hands and stepped back. He'd thought that bringing in Paul's administrative assistant would make his life easier, but this woman wasn't at all what he'd been expecting. For a widow, she was young and incredibly good-looking. Long, loosely curled red hair fell to the shoulders of her thick green cable-knit sweater. Her cheeks had become pink in the cold, accenting the green of her eyes. Low-riding jeans hugged a shapely bottom.

He wasn't sure what the heck had happened when she'd fallen into his arms after she'd slipped on the ice. Their eyes had met and he'd felt a jolt of something so foreign it had rendered him speechless. He couldn't blame it on the fact that she was attractive. He knew hundreds of gorgeous women. Women even prettier than she was....

June 2009, Premiere Issue

2009-06-04T04:13:00.000-07:00

Good morning!

I'm very excited to be writing my first ever issue of the Susan Meier ezine. I toyed with various titles like the MEIER CHRONICLES but ended up deciding to keep the name simple.

I've never done anything like this so there are going to be mistakes. But try not to notice them.

MAID IN MONTANA

My first book of 2009, MAID IN MONTANA is to be released this month! I'm excited about this book because from the first day I began working on it, I loved it. I love the story, the characters and the setting!

Here's an excerpt, taken from Chapter three!

Sophie watched television until eleven that night, hoping to make herself tired. But even after hours of mindless TV her upset over losing her job made her too restless to go to bed.
After checking to make sure Brady was in a deep sleep, she slid into her one-piece bathing suit and the matching terrycloth cover-up then grabbed the portable baby monitor from the bedside table and walked through the sitting room to the door of her suite. She opened it slowly, not wanting to run in to anyone since her cover-up was short and she felt uncomfortable walking around only half dressed.
Common sense told her she had no reason to fear. It was late. She was on the first floor. Her boss’s suite of rooms was on the second floor. Slim had a cabin behind the homestead. Only a few hands actually slept in the bunkhouse, but even they were so far from the house that no one would see her – if they were awake. She was perfectly safe.
She took a breath, stole down the short hall that led to the kitchen and then slipped into the family room with French doors that led to the pool. In another two steps, she was standing on the stone patio.
Silence descended on her like a warm blanket. The city always had sound. Background noise. A person might grow accustomed to it and not “hear” it, but it was always there. On this ranch, so far away from civilization, she learned the meaning of the word silence.
Removing her cover-up, she glanced around in awe. Except for dim lights illuminating the blue water of the pool, this world was also inky black. Remembering something about seeing stars in the country, she quickly glanced up and sighed.
“Oh, my gosh.”
“Oh, my gosh what?”
On gasp, Sophie spun around to find Jeb walking out of the shadows behind her. Anger rose like hot lava in her veins and her first instinct was to turn and walk away. But the closer he got, the more her anger was replaced by confusion. Water flattened his thick black hair and droplets cascaded from his shoulders and down his broad chest, making trails through whorls of dark hair leading to six-pack abs. Wet black swimming trucks clung precariously to lean hips and a butt made for a woman to sink her fingernails into in the throes of passion.
Even as her mouth went dry, she groaned inwardly. How could she be attracted to the man who had just fired her?
“Oh, my gosh what?” He repeated his question as he walked over to her, stopping within arm’s reach.
Awareness shimmied through her. With her cover-up in her hand and wearing only her bathing suit, she wasn’t quite as naked as he was, but they were both scantily dressed, alone, in the darkness.
She pulled in a breath, reprimanding herself. Not only were they were both sufficiently covered, but also she was furious with him and he clearly didn’t like her. She didn’t intend to continue their argument, but she wouldn’t cower from him either.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “The stars. There are so many.”
“You have big city syndrome,” he growled, back to being the grouch boss. He looked up into the star spangled darkness and back at her. “The sky is always lit over a city, blocking one of nature’s greatest gifts. A starry night.”
He took another glance up at the sky and her gaze skimmed his broad chest and perfect tummy. He was, quite literally, the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
“Yeah. We certainly don’t have stars like this in the city.” She swallowed, desperately trying to will away her attraction. He was a self-centered grouch, who had fired her. He was the last person she wanted to feel anything for. But she couldn’t deny that being this close to him, her whole body hummed. She told herself it was just plain foolish to be attracted to a man she didn’t even like. Yet, here she stood, her breathing erratic, her nerve-endings on red alert, just from standing close to him.
“I’ll just go back to my room now.”
He snatched a huge green towel from a nearby chaise. “No, I’ll go. I’m done with my swim. In about ten seconds the patio will be all yours.”
A nervous laugh bubbled up from her. There was no way she’d let him leave his own swimming pool on account of her. No way she’d give him another thing to complain about. “No. That’s okay. You stay. I only came out here to get a breath of fresh air.”
She watched his gaze move from her face, down her one-piece suit, pausing on the length of leg exposed beneath the high-cut bottom.
“If you only came out for fresh air, then why are you in a swim suit?”
Her breathing, which had been erratic, stalled in her chest. His voice might have been strong, detached, but the look he’d given her had been long and slow. He’d taken in every square inch of her and lingered on the part of her that usually drew a man – her legs.
She swallowed.
Not sure what to think, she tried to fall back on humor. “All right. You caught me. I’m guilty as charged. I wanted a quick swim, but I didn’t realize you were using the pool or I wouldn’t have come out.”
He took a step closer. “I didn’t picture you as the one-piece suit type. I figured you more for a bikini girl.”
Another nervous laugh escaped her. If he made a pass at her, she wasn’t sure if she would melt or faint. They both knew she was leaving in three weeks. And maybe that was why he was suddenly behaving so different with her? If he made a pass at her, nothing would come of it but an affair.
She took a breath. One little look shouldn’t have her automatically assuming he was after an affair! She had to stop jumping to conclusions. So far he hadn’t said or done anything out of line. She might have even misinterpreted the look he’d given her. What if he wasn’t attracted at all, but actually confused by her choice of swimwear?
“Why a bikini?”
“Don’t you surf?”
“No.”
“Hum. A California girl who doesn’t surf. Another myth debunked.”
Relief skittered through her. She had been correct. He wasn’t attracted to her but confused by her. She could breathe again. “You think all California girls surf?”
He caught her gaze, his pale eyes soft and serious in the moonlight. “Yes.”
Realization of how close they were slid over her. He was a very different man when he wasn’t yelling at her. In fact, from the way he was looking at her she’d never guess he had a problem with her at all.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, feeling reactions and emotions that were more instinctive than conscious. Her eyes desperately wanted to move down again, soak in the beauty and masculinity of his chest, and she struggled to keep them locked with his. Her nerve endings sparkled like the stars overhead. Her breathing became forced, labored.
He stepped back, his gaze still locked with hers. “You’d do well to remember that I’m a grouch and check to make sure the pool isn’t occupied the next time you want to swim.”
Embarrassment poured through her in a rush of heat. Good grief! So much for him behaving differently! Why did she keep making mistakes with this guy? Normally, she was a better judge of character. Yet, this was the third time she’d totally misread him.
“I’m sorry. Next time I want to swim I’ll ask.”
“There’s no reason to ask. Just remember that I swim every night around ten-thirty and don’t come out and we’ll be fine.”
Though his words were appropriate, his voice went back to being soft, hypnotic, resurrecting the sprinkle of gooseflesh that covered her body. She peeked at him, confused again. What was going on here?
She took a breath, reminding herself it didn’t matter. She’d be gone in three weeks. Dropping her cover-up to the chaise, she turned to the pool. Before she dove in, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him walking toward the French doors. Her sigh of relief was swallowed up by the splash she made when she plunged into the water.

June 2009 Writing Tip!

2009-06-01T12:03:00.000-07:00

Rather than post a writing tip this month, as a treat I thought I'd give you an entire lesson from one of my classes.

This is Lesson one from one of my most popular online classes, Journey Steps, Taking the Train to Somewhere.

Lesson One: What are Journey Steps?

Lots of speakers, writers and pundits define plot points as four or five major events of your story, pivotal points, points of change or twists that take the story in a different direction. High points of the story.

Couldn’t agree more. But when I would sit down to write a book, I’d come up with four or five “high points” and have no idea what to put in between those high points. So I dug deeper and that’s when I discovered “Journey Steps.” Actually, I might have made them up. But they work, so you might want to try them too.

What are Journey Steps?

In Susan Meier World – which is a little bit like a theme park but you have to “work” on the rides -- Journey Steps are the steps it takes your main character (protagonist) to get from who he or she is at the opening of the book – the inciting incident, the terrible trouble, the day/moment everything changed – to who he or she is at the resolution of the trouble and the satisfying conclusion.

Note that I don’t say it’s the steps from one plot point to another…though I could. I like to see the big picture of a story. The journey. Though obviously plot points do shake things up on the journey, they are still “steps” and if I don’t make a big deal out of them (LOL) I see my whole story unfolding as "steps." Plot points being more important steps, but still steps –

And steps are action, and action breeds a reaction and reaction breeds decision, which always breeds action, which breeds a reaction, which breeds a decision and on and on and on. When I discovered this action/reaction/decision sequence in books by Jack Bickham and Dwight Swain, I started calling it a magic formula for plotting because it is. If you follow action/reaction and decision, you can not only tell a story, you can tell it in a tight, focused way.

Which should be all of our goal!

But when I figured all this stuff out, I also realized that to be able to plot well, a writer also needed to understand story, scene and word. These are actually the three levels on which we write. If you want to write a good novel, you must be able to come up with a story, manifest that story through scenes and be able to build those scenes using words.

Today, for the purposes of understanding journey steps, words don't concern us. But scenes sure as heck do. Why? Because the basis of every scene should be a journey step. But even scenes don’t yet concern us because before you can come up with scenes that manifest your story, you have to have a story.

Lots of people groan at that, but you have to know your story. For the pantsers among us, you don't have to get fancy and/or specific and do an outline that ruins your fun. In fact, the less fancy or specific you are the better. Having a one sentence or one paragraph description of your story is enough to begin figuring out journey steps. From there you can write each scene individually and come up with your journey steps as you go along. So your pantser fun isn’t ruined!

But you have to know at least the bare bones of your story to come up with the “correct” first journey step. The important one that starts the book.

Okay, so what does a one-line or one-paragraph story description look like?

How about this: Hero and heroine must catch a killer but she's already been arrested for the crime and he's the DA prosecuting her.

Short, succinct, no fun spoiling, but enough to come up with a great opening scene.

Here's another: Driving home from Vegas, where the heroine ran when she realized she didn't want to marry her fiancée, the hero and heroine realize they are incredibly attracted. But the hero won't do anything about the attraction because the heroine's ex-fiancée is his BOSS.

(By the way, I call this a story summary and it's one of those things we'll work on at the end of the workshop, when we discuss tools!)

Once you have your one paragraph or one sentence idea, the "steps" or journey steps, are the way you tell that story. And basically you illustrate those "steps" in scenes.

(I actually give a workshop on story, scene and word. Writing on 3 levels because writing a novel involves three distinct abilities. The ability to come up with a great story. The ability to tell that story in scenes and the ability to create those scenes using words.)

Anyway… You now know that in order to figure out your journey steps, you need to know your story -- at least the bare-bones idea.

And that’s it for lesson one. For your assignment, I’d like you to see if you can condense your story down to one line or one short, succinct paragraph that tells the kind of story it is and the overall GMC.

One caveat is that you never want to say the words…The hero’s goal is…or the Heroine’s motivation is…You want them to blend seamlessly into your sentence.

Remember our example? The hero and heroine must catch a killer but she’s already been arrested for the crime and he’s the DA prosecuting her?

Do you know what their goal is? Yes, to catch a killer.
Do you know what their motivation is? Yes…they’re trying to save her. Well, she’s trying to save herself. He’s trying to make sure the right person is prosecuted for the crime.
Do you know what their conflict is? Sure. They are on opposite sides of a battle; but also, they’re running against the clock. They can’t be attracted because of being on opposite ends of a battle. He WILL prosecute her if the evidence turns him in that direction.

Do you see how I took all that “stuff” and turned it into one sentence?

THAT’s what you need to do with your book!

Bringing Up Babies...and kids of all ages

2009-06-01T00:03:00.000-07:00

I write a lot of baby books. Which means I spend a lot of time researching babies. I don't have to go far though. I come from a family with eleven children and right now my nieces and nephews are becoming parents. There's always a baby to observe and a new mom ready to answer technical questions.

This month, though, my sisters, nieces and I were discussing sleeping habits of kids. One of the hardest things to do is get your kids to accept that it's bedtime.

In our discussion we came up with five things that will help at bedtime.

1. Set a regular time. And stick to it. My oldest son liked going to bed early. So when his sister came along, she saw him going to bed at 6:00 and must have figured that was normal because she never fussed, simply got her blanket and followed suit. When child #3 came along, he also saw the bedtime ritual and followed his brother and sister to bed at 6:00. I'm sorry to say that didn't last past elementary school. (My kids were the most rested in their classes! LOL) But it does prove that systems and structure work! Set a time, stick to it, and make it appear as "normal" as possible. Six is ambitious! (And I was lucky.) But eight or eight-thirty isn't!

2. Have a ritual. Picking up the toys, then having a snack, kissing daddy (or mommy goodnight), getting a bath, putting on pj's sets the mood for your child. Rituals are very comforting. And a comfortable child is a child who will relax and fall asleep!

3. Read a bedtime story. Get your child adjusted to being in his or her room and comfortable by spending a few minutes reading a story. Show him you're not deserting him, but tucking him in for the night. Saying prayers at bedtime is also a great way to ease a child out of his active life and into bedtime.

4. Cut out sugar, caffiene and chocolate hours before bedtime. This eliminates fights over bedtime! A child who isn't revved up on caffiene or sugar may fight a bit, but if he or she has been up for hours they'll be tired enough to drop off. Not so, if they're revved up on caffiene or sugar. Put those things away around three o'clock in the afternoon!

5. White noise can be a comfort to a little mind. I remember one night when I was about six, I couldn't seem to fall asleep. All of a sudden I heard this horrible noise and I was positive a giant cow was on her way to ram down our house. I was terrified! It took me at least an hour to realize my sister was snoring! But by that time I was so anxious and nervous that it took another hour to fall asleep. Children have wonderful imaginations. They see and hear monsters everywhere! A night light and a cd of soothing sounds that block out the kinds of sounds that might awaken their imaginations can be very handy to get a child to relax and fall asleep.

What you missed...

2009-06-01T00:02:00.000-07:00

If you didn't read the Home Cooking Blog at susanmeier.com these past few months you missed some great stuff!

At Eastertime, I made a dessert I found on Pillsbury.com! The recipe is up on the blog.

During Lent I posted my family's recipe for periogis and also my niece's recipe for sesame noodles!

There are plenty of recipes for you to try. Lots of older recipes from my aunts and my mom! But what I like best about that blog is the opportunity to talk about some of my family's traditions.

so check out susanmeier.com ... home cooking blog!

Cat Tails

2009-06-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

That's Sophia. My cat. Her real name is Sophia Maria Lolita Conchita Chequita Banana. You can understand why we call her Sophie. She's really not as grouchy as she looks in that picture. Actually, she's a very lovable cat. She's a snuggler. Which is probably why I adore her.

Sophie is infamous in our neighborhood. She never met a squirrel she didn't want to chase into the first available open door. She's angered the bird community more than once. But there isn't a rodent around because Sophie is a hunter. Unlike Fat Fluff. My daughter's cat isn't much on hunting. He never was but now that he's older he doesn't even like to come downstairs for food. We usually have to bring it to him.

Sophie and Fluffy are the bright spots of my day. (Even if I do have to bring Fluffy room service.) My kids are older so I'm turning into the crazy lady in the gray house with the odd cats.

I thought Sophie and Fluffy would be a good way to end my first ezine.

Next time I hope to be better with the technical stuff!

So until then, happy reading!

Don't forget MAID IN MONTANA!

susan