Author Woman!

I consider writing romance sort of a super hero pursuit. This was my chance to reinvent myself, to do good in the world by creating cool worlds, to pursue justice, and to look hot in a leotard (metaphorically speaking, of course). When asked for a biography, I jazzed it up a bit. I mean anyone can say where they went to school, but who would think to say they have aspirations to be Wonder Woman? Now, that's interesting! I was so clever! I shared my clever biography with my husband.

"You should take this more seriously," he counseled.

Really? But I DO have aspirations to be Wonder Woman, and yet I do think high heeled boots are uncomfortable. What's not serious about that? Oh, the back pain when I have worn heels. UGH! How did Lynda Carter do it?

I'd love to impress my kids by some great accomplishment like flying or something like that. But as Author Woman! the best I could come up with was dedicating a book to them. I opened the book right up as soon as it came in the mail and showed it to them. "Look! Mommy dedicated this book to you! Isn't that neat?"

They looked at their names on the page. "You know what would be really cool, Mom? If you would write a book about aliens, that would be awesome!"

Aliens? But...I write contemporary romance. I haven't really stuck my toe in the science fiction waters as yet.

Note to self: write alien book to impress offspring.

My Super Hero Author persona got a big boost a couple of months ago when the newspaper did a story on me.

My neighbor saw me in the yard. He stood there staring at me for a while.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I replied.

"Saw you in the paper."

"Did you?" (I usually say something noncommittal like this until I know where the conversation is going).

"You think you know people." He shook his head and went back in his house, not really giving me time to see where the conversation was going. It was gone!

Hmmm. Perhaps he went to get his copy of my book. I hurried inside my own house to get my special light-up heart pen with the red feather. A Super Hero always has to be ready to sign books when asked by a fan!

(Cue the Super Hero Author Woman! music. It's a combination of the A Team theme music and Gone with the Wind. Turn on the large fan so my cape can blow prettily behind me. I shall now strike my Author Woman! pose with one booted foot pointed, knee slightly bent, and pen in hand.)

Where do writers get their ideas?

Every writer is occasionally asked where they get the inspiration for their plots.

Ideas can come from anywhere.

For romantic novelists, there is a safe supply of tried and trusted plot devices – marriage of convenience, secret baby, feuding families, beauty and the beast, etc, etc.

Another great source of ideas is newspapers. For example, in yesterday’s paper (I live in the UK and read The Times) we have the makings of a great adventure:

A 3,988 ton cargo ship Arctic Sea goes missing in the English Channel. Vanishes. Disappears without a trace. This is not a rowboat, but a huge vessel with a crew of 15. The ship was carrying a cargo of timber which wouldn’t sink, but would float over the sea even if the vessel itself broke up.

What happened? Where did it go? And how could this happen in one of the world’s busiest shipping channels? In the age of technology which puts our homes on Google Earth and has most of us captured on CCTV countless times each day.

Maybe tomorrow’s paper will tell us…..

But the best story ideas come from real life. My favorite one this week is:

The Girl with the Ice Cream Cone

On Monday, at 6.30 in the morning, on my way to work, I drive along my usual route through a pretty village. A young woman walks down the street, carrying an ice cream cone in her hand. It’s an enormous ice cream, not the kind that comes in a foil wrapper, but a crispy golden cone absolutely heaped with vanilla ice cream. The girl isn’t eating, not even taking a little lick to taste. She is just walking along, the ice cream carefully balanced in her hand. At 6.30 in the morning. In a village without shops. The ice cream hasn’t started melting at all, so she can’t have come far.

Her blond hair bounces against her shoulders as she strides along. She wears pink trousers and a green jacket which convey a bold fashion sense.

Where did she come from? Who is she? Where did she get the ice cream from? Why isn’t she eating? Is the ice cream for someone else?

One of my future books will have a scene with a girl walking down an empty street at 6.30 in the morning carrying an ice cream cone….

Love from Tatiana