Blueprint for Love

A Sweet, Southern Romance

Hope you enjoy my latest contemporary romance.

Upon returning to her small hometown in the deep South, New York actress, Tandy Neuberry, helps a shy, stuttering six-year-old deliver a speech in honor of his dead father, in spite of the strong objections of his over protective uncle, who turns out to be her first and only love.

New York actress TANDY NEUBERRY has come home to St. Simon’s Island to care for her ailing father. While teaching at the elementary school to make ends meet, she loses her heart to a shy, stuttering little boy who lost his father in the war. Remembering too well her own painful childhood struggles, she vows to use her creativity and experience to draw him out of his shell. Unfortunately, his arrogantly sexy guardian wants her to butt out, and Tandy knows why. He’s the guy who kicked her naïve dreams of happily ever after to the curb.

WHIT FREEMAN would hand over the reins to his booming construction company if he could dry the deep well of sadness in his nephew’s huge brown eyes. He knows that once he gets the hang of parenting, they’ll both be able to make peace with their tragic loss. That’s why he won’t allow beautiful, flighty actress Tandy Neuberry to ingratiate herself into his boy’s life. Because it’s only a matter of weeks before she deserts him and everyone else in town…again.

Blueprint for Love was a finalist in the Great Expectations Writing Contest sponsored by North Texas Romance Writers and second in the Lone Star Writing Contest sponsored by Northwest Houston RWA under the name New Girl in Town.

Christmas Holiday – Reflection and Rest

~ Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. ~ William Shakespeare

My first day of December rolled out with the softness of a snowball fashioned of newly fallen snow, but in a matter of days December has grown hard and a bit threatening. Soon it will careen through my holiday performances and end of the year chapter events until it finally crashes into Christmas and New Years, breaking into a thousand pieces of reflection and rest spent with those I love. Whew!

Whether you’re at ease or totally stressed out, I hope you find joy in those you love and in the promise of peace this month. (I also hope you catch a moment or two to work on your story.)

I don’t know about you, but last year I battled, and I survived. This year the desire to write returned, and I started a mystery — one page after another, discovering who, what, when, where, and why. Those questions and the search for their answers quench my creative thirst.
I’m learning to enjoy the process and the discovery.

Many blessings of love and laughter to you and yours this holiday season,

~ I have had a holiday, and I’d like to take it up professionally. ~ Kylie Minogue

Race Against Yourself

There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. ~Walter Wellesley “Red” Smith

Every writer I know has trouble writing. ~Joseph Heller

Every year at this time, swimmers from North Texas converge on one of our local natatoriums to kick and paddle their extremities off, competing for medals and trophies and team bragging rights. After attending this meet for several years, our family is down to just one competitive swimmer, my strong and graceful sixteen-year-old. Without my three boys to chase I find myself watching from the sidelines with a new perspective.

Yet again, I see myself and the writer’s world reflected. This time it shimmers in the smiles, pouts, and frustrated expressions of the competitors. I smile with the younger ones who are so proud to finish, win first in their heat, or make it to the consolation final. I squirm with recognition when grim-mouthed athletes respond to their sympathetic parents with terse words and downcast eyes.

Throughout the years we’ve repeatedly asked our boys to concentrate not on how they finish, first, second, or eighth place, but on their time. All competitive swim parents do the same. That way, even if they finish sixteenth out of a set of twenty athletes, they can focus on something positive. Did they swim their event with a better time than the last time they competed? Are they making progress?

You guessed it. Progress is exactly what we need to focus on in our writing careers as well. Progress can be measured by our actions. Are we completing manuscripts, entering contests, meeting with agents and editors, and submitting? Perhaps we’re already doing those things. Progress can be measured by honing our skills. Are we working to improve our characterizations, descriptions, dialogue, and conflict? Okay, let’s say we’re doing those things as well. Are we accountable to a critique group? Setting goals, both short and long term?

So many others before me have said the same thing, control what you can control in this business. You have no power over whether or not an agent chooses to represent you or if an editor offers you a contract. You do have power over your writing and progress. This month I want to encourage all of us to recognize our own progress, pat ourselves on the back for how far we’ve come, and toughen our commitment to improvement. And, of course, enjoy the writing.

I’m not a very good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter. ~James Michener

Enjoy the Ride

“Planning to write is not writing. Outlining…researching…talking to people about what you’re doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.” E.L. Doctorow

This month I’m writing my column from my parents’ home in Pensacola, Florida. Through the plantation shutters next to my desk, I spy many of the things that represent home to me: white rocking chairs on an expansive screened porch, healthy ferns and blooming palm trees, ducks waddling on the boat dock my children painted last summer, and a canal filled with an array of boats.

If you’ll pardon the vacation analogy, I can’t help but think of the writers in our chapter as I gaze at the different boats docked along our canal. The folks across the water have a power cruiser–feisty, quick, equipped with a small cabin for brief respites from the sun; further down there’s a party boat–comfortable, unhurried, perfect for a sunset on the bay; another canal neighbor owns a fishing boat with a tall tower–aggressive, fast, no shade provided ’cause it’s all about the catch; and way down the channel rests a sailboat with a forty foot mast–majestic, powerful, outfitted with luxurious accommodations for far-flung adventures.

It’s easy for me to admire each vessel because I can clearly see how the differences in their structure and appearance fulfill the needs of their owners. Too bad I can’t always do the same with my writing. Often I compare my skill, voice, and genre with those of my friends, critique partners, and the published authors in our chapter–even though I know that’s creative suicide. As much as I’d like my voice to growl with no-holds-barred aggression, I’m aware that it merely barks with Southern cynicism. Believe me, I don’t consciously strive to write like someone else; but I am guilty of writing stories I think are marketable to the point that I edit out my own voice. And has anyone else out there started writing a manuscript you thought was stark and literary, say something like Girl with a Pearl Earring, only to realize that, in fact, you’ve written something that resembles Fried Green Tomatoes?

Perhaps the salt air has cleared my head. Whatever the reason, I’ve started my vacation with a change in attitude. I still aspire to write with a fresh, no-holds-barred style, but I’ve made myself a few promises. I will continue to hone my skills and voice. I will bring to my writing what only I can bring–my history, experience, and point of view. And, finally, I will enjoy the writing, ’cause that’s what the ride is all about.

Gina

“When genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.” D.H. Lawrence

Writing under the Influence

Tonight I attended a special viewing of a documentary entitled Haze. It was about the death of a freshmen within his first month of college. He died from alcohol poisoning. He lay on the floor for hours because the other plastered frat boys thought he had merely passed out. They didn’t call emergency services, but they did write obscene messages on his body with marker, the better to humiliate him when he woke up. This was a tragic story, and it really hit home with my teenager. He didn’t know how many college students die from alcohol poisoning or alcohol related deaths each year. If someone you know has passed out from drinking too much dial 911. Don’t take a chance.
It gave me a golden opportunity to talk about alcohol with my son, and to discuss the alcoholism that runs rampant through my side of the family.
I can’t help thinking about writers and artists, about how much the world needs their creativity and ability to challenge or affirm our view of life. Yet so many have died from drug and alcohol related deaths.
My prayer is that those of us in the arts spread the word…there’s a better way to live and to find our creativity than by killing ourselves with alcohol and drugs–either down the road or much too soon.

Touch Not the Cat

Have you ever done this? Opened a favorite book only to discover that you’ve grafted some of it into your writing and into your voice. I try to avoid doing that very thing as if it would give me the plague itself.
Yet yesterday I began reading for the fifth time Touch Not the Cat by Mary Stewart. A hardback romance novel written in 1968 which I borrowed permanently from my mother. I discovered it in the late ’70′s; and every few years I unearth it again.
Mary Stewart was one of my literary heroes. She wrote the mystical and romantic Pendragon Trilogy that began with The Crystal Cave. She also wrote gothic romances, but those were too dense.
I had the most wonderful surprise when I cracked the cover this time around. This short novel is written in first person. And I’m working on a manuscript in first person. Her first person is a young, intelligent woman with a special gift. That’s where the similarities in our stories end.
My heroine is a youngish, sort of intelligent woman with a special gift. She’s in her thirties, hails from the Deep South with an accent to match, and is gifted in the ways of feeding and nursing assorted animals back to health.
The late Ms. Stewart’s story has, what we now call, paranormal elements. Her heroine is gifted with thought transference. Only one person can receive her thoughts, and only she can receive his. Yes, faithful reader, he is her lover. Of course, she doesn’t know the identity of her paranormal lover. Yet she’s ready to find out which of her two identical cousins is actually her lover in his heart and mind.
(Here I use the word ‘lover’ because Stewart uses it. Actually, this is a very sweet story without torrid love scenes, so no intimate relations of any kind, hot, warm, or mild, take place.)
You absolutely must read this simply marvelous story. There’s love, mystery, murder, the paranormal…and the wondrous storytelling of Mary Stewart.
I’m not Mary Stewart; but I feel her approval as I continue on with my own special heroine. And a nod as I write it in first person–in a voice, influenced by the stories I love, but uniquely my own.
Bon appetit!

Book Signing

MULTI-AUTHOR BOOK SIGNING
Saturday, February 27th
3:00 – 6:00 PM
Barnes and Noble Booksellers
Shops at North East Mall
Hurst, Texas

I’m thrilled to be signing my first novel, Play It Loud next Saturday, February 27, from 3:00 to 6:00 PM. The multi-author book signing will benefit North Texas Romance Writers. Here’s a list of the authors who’ll be signing that day as part of the TEA at THREE event.

Clover Autrey/ Shayla Black
Angela Cavener/ Leanne Ellis
Mary Malcolm/ Gina Nelson
Misa Ramirez/ Beth Shriver
Sheniqua Waters/ Wendy Watson

I hope you’ll stop by with a friend, check out my book, and enjoy a cup of tea to benefit North Texas Romance Writers.