Tagging Along

If you’re a writer, you know what a tag is. It’s that little statement at the end of dialogue that indicates who is speaking. For instance, in this snippet of dialogue, “I am going for a walk,” she said, she said is the tag. Most believe that using said for the majority of tags is the best word, because readers skip over the phrase without consciously noting it’s there, unlike other words such as answered or told or responded.

Writers can also get in bad habits by adding a bunch of action to the tag. An example would be:

“Don’t you ever come back,” she screamed as she threw a hair brush at him and missed, hitting the wall. It’s much better to separate the two, and in this case, get rid of the tag altogether. “Don’t you ever come back.” She threw her hair brush at him and grimaced as it missed and hit the wall.

If you have three or more characters in a scene, you will need to use occasional tags and use the names of the characters more often instead of the pronouns he and she to identify which he or she is speaking. Here is a short example from Coming to Climax, my suspense novel coming in September:

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Carroll.” Margaret walked forward to shake his hand. She handed a small brown bag to her friend. “Here’s your vanilla, Cindy.”

“Thanks.” Cindy took the bag. “Actually, he’s Doctor Carroll.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Palmer.” The man shook hands with her, a solemn expression on his face.

“Are you the local Family Practitioner?”

“I am if I’m helping your pet.”

Cindy laughed. “He’s a vet. Chris and I were just talking about a young guy who got shot.”

“You’re the vet who patched up Andy and Carolina? Thanks so very much.” She shivered. Maybe one more valium was a good idea . . .

“I knew it was Carolina,” Cindy said. “Just didn’t want to blurt it out in case you hadn’t seen her yet.”

“It’s okay. I just left her. All the time I kept thinking the person who shot Andy and nicked Carolina’s ear might be the same guy who killed those men.” Margaret sat down in a chair. “It makes me positively weak-kneed just thinking about it.”

“I hope they reported it to the sheriff. Please tell your niece I don’t think that was a stray bullet from a hunter.” He glanced back at Cindy. “Well, got to go. Kate says I have a Beagle with diarrhea and a Lab puppy who ate part of a garden hose waiting on me.”

Though the conversation changed back and forth ten times, only one tag was used.

If there are only two people in a scene, you know by your paragraph breaks who is speaking. Tags can be minimal or not there at all if you replace them with action by the character. Here’s an example from my latest Briny Bay mystery, The Marriage Murders, with tags and then without them.

With the tags:

“I hear you,” Trixie said. “Just how much extra-curricular activity have you done anyway?”

“As in sex?” Roxie asked.

Trixie sighed. “No, I meant Scrabble,” she said. “Of course I meant sex, you ditz.”

Roxie’s eyes narrowed and said, “Don’t demean me.”

“Stop the temper tantrum,” Trixie said. “I got tired of that when you were six. Spill. Have you two been to bed?”

“The time just hasn’t been right,” Roxie said.

“Bingo!” Trixie exclaimed. “Men’s minds wander at date six or earlier. Mark my words, he’s off shopping the catalogues, not admiring the old purchase.”

“Between you and Greg, I’m starting to feel like I’m ready for the glue factory,” Roxie said.

Trixie leaned down and stared into her sister’s eyes. “What’s with you?” she asked. “You’re the one who made whoopee with a California foreigner in a shed and Greg who is the obvious recipient of your pitty-pats doesn’t get as much as a bounce on the bed?”

“It’s because I admire him a lot,” she said.

“Admire is something you do to a president or a Mother Theresa or a Nelson Mandela, but it sure ain’t what you want to do to your sweetheart,” Trixie told her. “Not unless you’re laid back in a euphoric fog , smiling at how much you admire his motion of the ocean.”

“Motion of the ocean?” she asked.

Trixie shrugged and said, “You know it’s not the size of the wave, but the…”

“Right, got it,” Roxie said. “You are such a nag. You know how I am. It’s just like how I was about Christmas when I was a little girl. You’d already sneaked and opened all your presents and wrapped them back up, but I wanted to open one at a time during the day. ”

“I shoulda’ caught on you were brain-damaged then,” Trixie told her. “Get the car in gear sugar, or your sweetie will be trading you in on a new model.”

Removing the tags:

“I hear you.” Trixie placed one hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I suggest you get his mind off kids. Just how much extra-curricular activity have you done anyway?”

“As in sex?”

Trixie sighed. “No, I meant Scrabble. Of course I meant sex, you ditz.”

Roxie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t demean me.”

“Stop the temper tantrum. I got tired of that when you were six. Spill. Have you two been to bed?”

Roxie stared at the floor. “The time just hasn’t been right.”

Trixie slapped the counter. “Bingo! Men’s minds wander at date six or earlier. Mark my words, he’s off shopping the catalogues, not admiring the old purchase.”

“Between you and Greg, I’m starting to feel like I’m ready for the glue factory.”

Trixie leaned down and stared into her sister’s eyes. “What’s with you? You’re the one who made whoopee with a California foreigner in a shed and Greg who is the obvious recipient of your pitty-pats doesn’t get as much as a bounce on the bed?”

Roxie bit her lip. “It’s because I admire him a lot.”

“Admire is something you do to a president or a Mother Theresa or a Nelson Mandela, but it sure ain’t what you want to do to your sweetheart. Not unless you’re laid back in a euphoric fog , smiling at how much you admire his motion of the ocean.”

Roxie looked up. “Motion of the ocean?”

Trixie shrugged. “You know it’s not the size of the wave, but the…”

“Right, got it.” Roxie exhaled. “You are such a nag. You know how I am. It’s just like how I was about Christmas when I was a little girl. You’d already sneaked and opened all your presents and wrapped them back up, but I wanted to open one at a time during the day. ”

“I shoulda’ caught on you were brain-damaged then. Get the car in gear sugar, or your sweetie will be trading you in on a new model.”

I hope this helps any beginning writers out there and would love to hear from readers as well.

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Bobbye Terry writes mystery/suspense, romance, fantasies and dystopian fiction. Her most recent release is Honey Blood and the Collector, written as Daryn Cross, Turquoise Morning Press.  Walk Right Back, also written as Daryn Cross, is soon to release from L&L Dreamspell. For more about Bobbye, visit her at www.BobbyeTerry-MysteryHappens.com and http://www.datyncross.com/ .

Hello From Briny Bay

Hi, y’all. I hope you don’t mind meeting in my bridal boutique. You see, Dreema Driscoll is due in about thirty minutes for a fitting. Besides the fact I need every minute of her fitting because I have to grease her down to get her in the dress, she can be a bit persnickety and a regular faucet, so I don’t dare try to leave in case I can’t get back in time. I do love to talk and sometimes I find it hard to stop. You know how it is when you’re the unofficial AP for a small town.

Grab yourself some coffee. I have hot water and tea bags too. You choose. Now to why I’m here. My sister hijacked Bobbye’s blog again. You see, Trix is a bit out-of-sorts with Bobbye. Again. Seems our author has been finishing another manuscript and not working on ours. As Trixie says, The Shadow Knows needs to be finished yesterday because it comes out in December and will explode into popularity making bigger commotion than a bunch of ammo in a lightning-struck barn. She figured it was only fitting I explain why. Okay, the plain truth forces me to fess up to the fact I threatened her beyond an inch of her life if she tried to sneak in here and take over until I’d had my say.

Oh, my goodness, where are my manners? I’m Roxie Turner. Whatever lies my sister told you before, please ignore them. She’s still miffed I was the baby and got all the attention, not to mention I am only in my early forties while she’s twelve years older and facing senility. Oh, and then there’s the fact she’s married to Floyd, the Great White Couch Potato, while I am the gay widow. Gay as in happy, let’s not spread any rumors. Of course, she won’t admit such sister envy, but it’s obvious why she is, don’t you think? <pats the side of my hair>

Now, to the point about popularity. The Briny Bay mystery series is all about mysteries—yes, I know it’s evident. But it seems that when a person is writing amateur sleuth books, that’s what Trixie and I are, especially when they’re set in a small town, a writer like our Bobbye, can draw a person into the story with all its Southern charm and the idiosyncrasies of the small town. The town becomes its own character. These techniques make the sudden twists and turns contrast and it seems to delight folks who read about the escapades.
Now, as Trix told you, I’m sure, because she just blurts out everything she knows, our first book in the Briny Bay Mysteries, Buried in Briny Bay, was released in March from Turquoise Morning Press. The second book, The Marriage Murders, came out in June and told all about a marriage party’s murders, which I, of course, solved, even though I gave my sister and Greg some credit. Especially Greg, as that set of murders brought us closer together. I mean really close, if you get my drift. We also got rid   Marlowe Malone, snarling red-nailed she-lion that she was, not to mention competition for my love-bug’s affections..

Now I’m really in for it, because Greg has discovered he has a grown daughter and she’s coming to visit. She arrives just in time for a bunch of brand new murders, all men and all missing…well, you know. Only the shadow knows why someone would want to cut off the little things, but there you go. Why the murderer keeps dumping the bodies next to Greg’s dock is beyond me. .And then there’s the fact his mother died trying to save the original Genital Reaper back more than twenty-five years ago.

I suppose I’ve jumped too far ahead. First you need to join me as I get out of hot water and keep Greg and his father from joint jail sentences for the murders.  Time to go back to that fortune teller who can tell me who the shadow is. Check out The Shadow Knows in December, but the other two books, Buried in Briny Bay and The Marriage Murders are on sale now at Amazon and most electronic retailers.

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Whoops! Gotta go now, I hear Bobbye coming back with a cup of tea. She’s such a Southern lady. See ya’!

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Bobbye Terry is a multi-published author of several different genres. She writes fantasy and science fiction under the pseudonym, Daryn Cross. Her science fiction series, The Cash Chronicles, currently includes two cyberpunk novellas, Frozen Assets and Full Moon Rising. Writing under her real name of Bobbye Terry, she pens mystery novels set in small Southern towns, including the Briny Bay Mystery Series and the Climax, Virginia series beginning with Coming to Climax and continuing in November with Nick of Time.

Character Overload

I am often was plagued with a severe outbreak of character overload. If you’re a writer, I know this has happened to you. It may even happen to a reader if you read several books at the same time. How do you read several books at the same time? I don’t have a clue, but one of my friends says she does. I doubt she’s alone. Anyway, my definition of character overload is a condition in which all the characters you have, whether in books being edited, in the work you’re currently writing or those you have plotted that are awaiting their opportunity for the turn of your pen (or computer keystroke), begin to war in your mind for dominance.

When this happens to me, I find myself balanced on a piece of thin wire, hopping from thought to thought and unable to settle down and make noticeable progress on any one project. It’s happening to me again. Editor 1 sent me front edits for a co-written book that will be released in November. Editor 2 is gearing up to send me the same on another book coming out very soon. At the same time, I just finished edits and need to publish an indie work and there’s still another one waiting for its last 6,000 words. But, you see, the characters in that book are so fed up with my not completing their story, they’ve clammed up and they aren’t talking.

I doubt I’ll ever have Alzheimer’s because my mind gets a great work out. I may, however, end up with one heck of a case of multiple personality disorder. Who am I kidding? I already have it and have professed to it on several guest blogs. Character Uprising, a poem I wrote a long time ago, tells the story about this kind of writer’s block:

My characters are not too pleased,
With whom I’ve written them to be,
They’ve been grumbling, and they might
Form a union, go on strike.

It’s a lot longer than that, but you get the idea. So, the question is how do I get out of this stalemate and negotiate with my characters to open up? Here are my top four ways to cure my temporary block:

1)     Take a break and do something else creative other than writing. One great way to do this is to draw or paint. I like to make a mandala. You can Google this, but basically it’s a circle with designs. Many folks use them when meditating or in spiritual pursuits. Maybe that’s why I like to do it, because it gets me in touch with my inner self.

2)     Go for a drive or just take a walk outside. There’s something about being out in the sun and fresh air that rejuvenates the mind, allowing for it to process once again.

3)     Work on a mind puzzle and stimulate the left side of your brain. The right side will rise to the occasion and start producing.

4)     Get plenty of rest. If you’re sleep deprived, it’s doubtful you’ll produce anything that’s creative.

I’d love to hear from other writer about your techniques, and readers, what helps clears your mind so you can produce?

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Bobbye Terry is the multi-published writer of fantasy, suspense and romantic comedy novels under her own name, her solo pseudonym, Daryn Cross, and her co-authored one, Terry Campbell. Her previous works have garnered finalist awards in the Booksellers’ Best and other RWA-sponsored contests. Bobbye’s most recent release is The Marriage Murders. Her next book, Coming to Climax, will be released the week of September 5th by Turquoise Morning Press.

He Said She Said

Wouldn’t it be nice if men and women understood each other better? But alas, she’s from Venus and he’s from Mars. So, let’s use it to its best advantage in writing. When a misunderstanding comes, milk it for what it’s worth by amplification of their miscommunication. I go for the humor, but you can also use it to amplify the frustration and the angst. It’s your call.

Sometimes it’s the man who misunderstands and sometimes it’s the woman. Here are two examples. In example one from Mr. Wrong by Terry Campbell, Roarke, the hero, is coming to find Kat and bring her back to the hospital where her daughter is from drinking Ipecac in an attempt to bring her mother home and into Roarke’s arms. The little girl wants them to be married. Kat is off on a holiday with a wealthy man she thinks is marriage material despite her overwhelming attraction to Roarke, whom she has labeled as Mr. Wrong. Her time with the wealthy man has been a disaster in which she has led him into injuring himself multiple times. So, let the fun begin…

Easing out of his car, he headed around the side of the house. As he entered the rear gardens, he spotted the kitchen lights, aimed for the stone patio and stopped.

“Pull it and you’ll get the treat of a lifetime.”

“Slippery little devil, isn’t it?”

Slippery little devil? He was too late.

****

Kat jerked the tab. The shell separated from the crab and sailed through the air like Tory’s Frisbee.

Jason’s hand flew to his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” She battled tears as blood seeped from under his fingers. “I can’t seem to do anything right.” It was a good thing Jason wasn’t Mr. Right. She doubted he’d survive marriage to her, assuming he lived long enough. Guilt-ridden, she stood and moved cautiously toward him.

He bolted to his feet. “Stay where you are.” He edged around her and started to the bathroom.

She advanced. “I know what to do. After all, I am the mother of a six-year-old.”

“She’s lived that long?”

Tears of held-in laughter streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” Her fingers touched his newest wound as a noise caught her attention. She turned and glanced at the open French doors. Rourke stood in the threshold looking like a savage warrior bent on murder. Her hand dropped to her side, and she offered a tentative smile as he moved toward them. “Rourke? What are you doing here?”

“Thank God. I’m saved.” Jason said, seconds before Rourke’s fist connected with his jaw.

“Get your stuff. Tory’s in the hospital.”

She stared at his disappearing back. “Wait.” she screamed. “What do you mean Tory’s in the hospital?”

Four minutes later and after hurried explanations, Kat stood beside the open passenger door and watched Rourke toss her bags into the trunk and slam the lid down. “You don’t understand.”

“I said get in the car, Katherine.”

She slipped into the passenger seat and jerked the door closed. This was ridiculous. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this frigid treatment, and Tory wasn’t in danger. Of course, Rourke saw everything in black and white.

“Thank you for coming out here. I’ll feel better once I see Tory’s okay for myself.” At his glower, she winced.

“That’s nice. God knows we all want you to feel better.”

A sharp retort threatened, but she bit her lip and watched in silence as he threw the car in reverse. “I realize she’s dehydrated, but it was Ipecac, not poison.”

“Which she drank because she wanted you home, not off for a weekend of love with your flavor of the month. Or is it, the week?”

“That’s unfair and out of line. Yes, Tory didn’t want me to date Jason. But that’s because she wanted us together.” She glanced at his grim mask and sighed. “Of course, kids dream the silliest things.”

He jerked the steering wheel to the right and pulled to the side of the road. “You discussed Jason and this trip with her?”

When he turned that slate-gray glare on her, she nodded. “I tried to explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” He faced front, put the car in gear and went from zero to seventy in six seconds. “That’s always been your problem, Katherine, you don’t think.”

She wasn’t sure which was worse, his burning glare of disgust or his cold frost of disdain. She’d never liked her name, Katherine, and now she hated it.

“You couldn’t even wait to make it out of the living room to start jumping the man.” He snorted and shook his head. “I’m glad you didn’t take me up on my offer. I’m not into S&M or having my bed partner draw blood.”

“Now wait a minute. That isn’t what happened. Jason was showing—”

“His equipment.”

She gasped. What an arrogant bully. Boy, was he going to be embarrassed when he discovered the truth. “No. I was learning how to pull—”

“A zipper. I can’t believe you called his equipment a ‘slippery little thing.’ I thought I taught you not to attack a man’s ego.”

Now here’s another example of our heroine misunderstanding the hero. In The Marriage Murders, my latest book written under my real name, Greg, the hero, wants to explain that he has just discovered he has a grown daughter from a love affair he had when he was very young. Roxie, the heroine, thinks he’s telling her he had an affair with the town’s new femme fatale . Roxie’s especially upset about his timing because she came to their date fully equipped with sex toys and a box of After Dinner Weanies.

“I have to come clean about something. It’s not like me to keep secrets, but I thought this was going to upset you, and I didn’t know exactly how to break the news.”

Finally, now, of all the odd and unexpected times, he was planning on unloading about his affair with Marlowe. Like she really needed to hear it on the night she’d hoped for a chance to check out his bed herself.  “I see. You may not have to tell me Greg. I think I already know.”

“You do?” He frowned. “How could you? No one around here knows.” He sighed. “I should have known you’d discover it. You always find out what going on. I want you to understand, what happened happened many years ago. If I’d known what I do now, it never would have occurred, not in a million years.”

She nodded. “I’m sure that’s true. When we’re younger, our hormones get the better of us. I would never have married Billy if I’d known about Georgia being pregnant.”

He stared at her, concern showing by the set of his jaw. “I understand exactly. But in all fairness to Billy, sometimes the woman doesn’t know what she really is doing to a long term relationship. You know, Georgia could have baited Billy, not told him the truth about birth control, even lied to him that she wasn’t pregnant, or worse yet, told him she’d aborted.”

Roxie grabbed the back of the seat cushions and stared at him in disbelief. She dug her nails into the fabric and wanted to gnash her teeth to powder. “You’re telling me you got her pregnant? You actually fathered a child with that woman?”

“That’s what I was trying to explain, but I didn’t know at the time. Now you’re sounding surprised. Look, I don’t know how you found out about this. Did Justina actually tell you?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Justina? Who exactly is Justina?”

His mouth fell open and he stared at her like he’d lost all his senses.  “You said you knew. I just thought my daughter had somehow met you before I saw her.”

Roxie jumped to her feet. “This is worse than I ever thought it could be. You had an affair with her and now you tell me you have her daughter? Greg, you are not at all the man I thought you were.” She grabbed her paper bag and held up her hand, palm forward. “Don’t say another word. I’m leaving before I bite off the real version of the mints I have in my bag.”

See how the misunderstanding become worse, fueling the fire for more action? Try it in your writing, and please tell me about examples from your own writing.

Bobbye Terry writes mystery/suspense, romance, fantasies and dystopian fiction. The Marriage Murders, Bobbye’s Book 2 in the Briny Bay Mysteries series, was just released. Bobbye and Linda Campbell, writing as Terry Campbell, have a new cozy mystery short story collection, Slam Sisters of Serendipity, that released through Eternal Press.  For more about Bobbye, visit her at www.BobbyeTerry-MysteryHappens.com and www.BobbyeTerryRomance.com .

Nail-Biting Tension

You know what’s it like. You’re reading a book on the edge of your seat. No bathroom break, no sir and you hope you don’t have to call for a catheter. Whatever happens, people better get ready to take care of it, because no way are you leaving this story. The tension in your shoulders is so tight, you can feel your muscles throb. Yet you turn the pages. Oh, my word, what will happen? How can the hero escape? How can he stay alive? Tension like that, my friends, is what you want to read. And it is, most assuredly, what you want to write. But how?

For me, it’s all in knowing how to crank it up. Here is a list to help:

The law of three-I find this very useful when writing suspense. To me, it means two separate things.

First, when writing a suspense or thriller (or any fiction, really) raise the stakes three times. You take a bad situation and make it worse. Then, just when you think how much worse could it be, kick it up one more notch. But it can’t happen all at the same time. That’s where pacing comes into play (stay tuned). For example (from Coming to Climax, releasing September 5^th): Margaret is going back to Climax for the first time in twenty-plus years to resolve her argument with her niece. She doesn’t know how she’ll ever face Blue, who married her sister on the rebound all those years ago. Margaret worries and frets, even orders three little bottles of Scotch on the plane. Can she pull it off and save face (the stakes)? Their meeting will be tense. But what if…you then find out Blue’s adopted daughter is really Margaret’s child? Will Blue forgive her and will she alienate Caroline forever? The stakes are raised again. But what if…the crimes in the town have something to do with those she loves and may lead to her death, or worse, Blue and Carolina getting killed? The stakes are raised again. Now you’re ready to feed in the tension by hitting the hot buttons, her stakes. Each time, the tension escalates.

Now thanks to Margie Lawson, think of the repetition of three items. By repeating words or phrases in a work, it brings emphasis or punch to the segment. That will be demonstrated at the end of this article.

Pacing and sentence structure – Don’t use long flowery sentences when in the middle of a tense scene. Think in shorthand and see the scene through the eyes of the person who has the POV. You’re seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting in snippets of sensation. Actions are choppy and hurried.

Reappearing images, phrases and sentences - One technique that pulls your book together and gives you a gotcha moment is to introduce something early in the text and then repeat it later with a twist. This could be a scene in a calm location, such as a thinking place or the security of one’s home. Later the same scene is colored with the ominous presence of the villain who seeks to kill the hero. Like Chef Emeril says, “kick it up a notch.” Similarly you can use a phrase or object that was used in an early violent or tense-filled scene and reintroduce it much later in another such scene, but this time involving a main character or the hero himself. For instance, in Nick of Time, the sequel to Coming to Climax, the book opens with two evil characters trapping a woman in a net they set up to capture her deep in the forest. One of the characters says. “Easier than trapping the Easter bunny.” Much later in the book, a prominent secondary character is trying to get away, and is also caught in a net. The same evil character says. ““Easy trapping, but you ain’t no Easter Bunny.” See? Gotcha’!

Atmosphere and Setting-I talked about this earlier when I explained about the calm scene becoming the violent one later. That’s setting. Use everything, the weather, the lighting, the location. For instance, my really threatening scenes in the Climax books normally take place in the deep forest with low lighting and obstacles to running, in abandoned buildings, even around a graveyard. Take time to describe the scenery. Paint a word picture so the reader can feel the dark mood and the somber tone.

Now, see if you can spot some of my techniques in this snippet (now unedited) from Nick of Time, coming in January 2012:

The guy vaulted at him, grabbing his shirt. Luke jerked loose, the fabric ripping. He lunged for the door. The man’s hands, talons, grabbed his shirt. Exerting unearthed power, Luke wrenched free and ran.

Ran from the trailer, primed for evasion. Ran down the path, terrified of capture. Ran like the hunted, straining to survive.

He darted into the woods, his breath coming in ragged gulps, his mind racing like an over-wound toy. The shadowed forest of a slowly setting sun dotted his view with dark patches of hopelessness. Run for escape. Run to the dark. The man won’t see me there.

Hiding behind a dense thatch of trees, he heard nothing. Maybe I lost him. He stayed silent, trying to calm his heaving chest. Maybe he left. His heart whammed against his ribcage, pounding anger at his foolishness. Where did he come from? His mind slapped him, laughing at his ignorance. He should have known.

I hope my insights will help someone on her quest to writing success. And for the reader, now you understand a bit about what goes into that novel.

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Bobbye Terry writes mystery/suspense, romance, fantasies and dystopian fiction. The Marriage Murders, the sequel to Buried in Briny Bay, is slated for release on July 4^th. Bobbye and Linda Campbell, writing as Terry Campbell, also have a new cozy mystery short story collection, Slam Sisters of Serendipity. Kenada, a “Ladies of the Chronicles” novelette in the Cash Chronicles series releases in just a few weeks.  For more about Bobbye, visit her at www.BobbyeTerry-MysteryHappens.com, http://www.daryncross.com/  and www.BobbyeTerryRomance.com.

Did Bridget Jones Die?

Got your attention, didn’t I? Still, I’m asking a valid question. It appears that the oh-so-once-popular chick lit has now died on the vine. It didn’t even get a proper burial. No more new journals for Bridget. Then again, perhaps the claim is erroneous. Could it be that these books still exist but are masquerading under new euphemisms?

I did a Google search to see what chick lit is being called and read some interesting and somewhat comical discussions about how to term such a work-in-progress so an agent or editor will read and consider it. One writer suggested  “upmarket fiction.” Another one pointed out that upmarket fiction is meant to describe work that falls between literary and commercial fiction and chick lit isn’t really that “upscale.” That left me thinking the formerly designated chick lit was somewhere between the “how-to” instructions for your latest purchased gizmo (you know, the instructions you never read) and last week’s junk mail.

I finally came to the conclusion that “downmarket fiction” would be a more appropriate title, but that depresses me even more because it makes me think of the stock market and the current state of economic affairs. To name my literature in such a manner would doom it to never even being purchased, much less read.

Most of the posts I found agreed that former chick lit books were now being referred to as “women’s fiction.” What on earth does that mean? I don’t know what you think of it, but, honestly, I find that to be incredibly boring. It sounds like a department in a megastore. As a result, I think we need to rename this type of literature. While we’re at it, let’s try to get rid of the stereotypical heroine image of stiletto heels and frilly fru-fru or skin-tight outfits. How can we bring justice to the genre when it gives credence to its don’t-get-no-respect appearance?

One writer, Jon Eaves, said it better than me in a guest blog at Novelicious, http://www.novelicious.com/chick-lit-genre:

The cover will invariably be pale pink or baby blue. The title will be written in a curly, a whirly or even possibly a squirly font.  There will, without exception, be a smattering of either silvery stars or shiny red hearts or, in the worst case scenario, purple butterflies. The cover illustration will be a stylised colour drawing of the thin, pretty heroine wearing deep red lip gloss and very pointy shoes.

So here is my list of the top five must-haves in the new “chick-lit” yet-to-be-named:

1.      Independent, not some run-home-to-live-with-mom-and-dad sappy, spineless heroine.

2.      The heroine is a good friend but capable of having lunch or drinking a coffee-shop drink without her double-sided-tape chums.

3.      In at least one scene in the book, the heroine is dressed wearing flats or ratty slippers. Under no circumstances should she own any shoes or handbags with names the average American can’t easily pronounce.

4.      There is more on the heroine’s mind than the hero, the way she is going to spend her time off and the state of her friends’ love lives.

5.      The heroine is not in her twenties, slim with a fabulous wardrobe and living in the middle of the glamorous neighborhood of a metropolis.

Here’s to forty-year-old heroines with weight issues in suburbia who are divorced or never married with mortgages that swallow half their incomes and a desire for a night life they don’t have. Wait! I have the perfect name for the literature. Reality fiction.

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Bobbye Terry writes the new yet-to-be-named “chick-lit” as well as romantic comedies, cozy mysteries, suspense, fantasies and dystopian fiction. Her latest work is Rose, Book 1 in The Lipstick Girls series.  The sequel, Rusty, will be out in late June. Bobbye and Linda Campbell, writing as Terry Campbell, have a new cozy mystery short story collection, Slam Sisters of Serendipity, debuting through Eternal Press on June 7^th.  For more about Bobbye, visit her at http://www.bobbyeterryromance.com/ and www.BobbyeTerry-MysteryHappens.com.

Everyday Magic

At the beginning of the book, IT’S MAGIC, there’s a short prologue in which the mysterious magical matchmaker, Maxwell Magic, speaks to the reader explaining that adults no longer believe and dream like children. He goes on to speak about everyday magic, the simple pleasure of smelling the air after a summer rain, the tingle of excitement from a cool breeze off the ocean, the delight in tasting freshly fallen snow.

Want to have magic in your life every day? Break from your routine and enjoy simple things just for yourself. Here are my top ten suggestions:

10. Don’t anticipate, be spontaneous. If you plan too much it ruins the magic. Okay, so you’re a planner. At least write down my ten things and post them on your car dash. Then, in the middle of errands etc., just do one of the things on the list (uh, don’t do it while driving, okay?)

9. Have dessert first, or better yet, go to a restaurant and just order dessert (even if you’re on a diet, once will not hurt).

8. Take a disadvantaged person to the movies.

7. Buy a book in the bookstore for someone in line, or tell the person at the drive-through, you’re paying for a latte, burger, chicken dinner whatever for the next driver. Don’t do drive-through? Drive-through anyway and pay it forward for the person behind you.

6. Walk through the grass barefoot.

5. Read a book from a genre or an author you’ve never read before. Then leave a review for it--just out of the blue.

4. Go on a picnic lunch (Too cold? So? Dress warmly and have an insulated carrier—OR have the picnic lunch inside on the floor). It doesn't have to be fancy. I have had a picnic lunch outside composed of canned sardines, cheese and saltine crackers (one of my date’s selections a long time ago—and no, the lunch wasn’t part of the date—it was an extra). Okay, sounds hideous to most of you. But it tasted great out there communing with nature.

3. Meditate outside for twenty minutes (the quieter the place the better).

2. Go on a long walk or a bike ride.

1. Spend a night at home with someone special and no television or computer.

You’ll be surprised how much better you feel after you break from your routine and see life through a brand new set of filters. It is, after all, magic!

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Bobbye Terry writes as herself as well as Daryn Cross in fantasy/sci-fi and Terry Campbell (as a co-writer) in romantic comedy.

Her latest book, ROSE, is a romantic comedy novella.