A phrase I hear more often is: Write to Market. This means try to find what is trending/what is selling and write that kind of story.
But I really prefer the first.
But what exactly does it mean? When I invite you into the world I’ve created, what journey do I want you to embark on ? What experiences will you have with my characters?
And I have to ask about the journey I want to go on as well. Where should writing/creating take me?
Part of the meaning of the phrase, write to mission, has to be building my world (my day to day world, my author world, and my fictional worlds) grounded in my values.
So, here I’ll try to list a few of those values.
I believe that love is the key–to everything good. Love is the answer, not only in a good story, but in life.
It’s easy to recognize love in the sweet, joyful times. Those moments of deep and meaningful connection and sharing are exhilarating and exquisite.
But love is also the answer in the middle of difficulties and disagreements. It requires respect, sacrifice, forgiveness, and compromise, but it’s worth it. Because love solves problems. Or, when a problems can’t be solved (and some challenges are long term), love helps us to understand and bear the load. And share the load. It gives us the strength to go on.
And I’m speaking here about both love for ourselves as well as love for others. Honesty and trust, courage, commitment, loyalty, fidelity, serving, nurturing and caring. All are part of love. I believe in these. I hope for these things.
At home and in the world, love conquers all.
These beliefs are the foundation of my life and writing, and the foundation of my stories.
I think you must share my belief in love and my hope that love will win in the end.
I bet you have stories of what love has done or allowed you to do in your life. I’d love to hear your stories of love, in the good times and the bad.
A Palette Cleanser, or a New Addition to Gigi Lynn Writes?
I love writing historical romance!
Rebel Hearts Book 1
I love the characters. I love the research. I love that “love conquers all” theme.
Free Rebel Hearts Prequel Novella
I think I will always write historical romance.
And Book 2 of the Rebel Hearts Series is sceduled for the first week in July. The writing on Book 3 of the Rebel Hearts Series is going well.
But I had an idea a week ago that planted itself in my mind and won’t let go, so in my spare time, I’ve been working on it.
It’s still a sweet, closed-door romance. It just happens to be set in a fantasy world. It’s set on an island nation of shape changers–Sirens, with power in their voices.
Would you like a sneak peek of my first draft of Chapter 1?
Here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
Working title: Charmed
Thick, dark clouds gathered on the horizon as we prepared for the coming battle. This time the enemy were Jemarri, skilled in combat and archery. They claimed to be descended from the Gods millennia ago. It might have been true.
This Jamar force sailed toward us in five triremes, each big enough to seat 170 oarsmen in three rows. Our scouting party had spied them out and found that each ship was armed with four ballistae modified for harpoons, two on the port, two on the starboard side. I gripped my spear in my right hand and kept my primary knife in my left and watched their large square sails moved inexorably closer.
Zephyrois approached me and took my chin in his big hand. “Raidne, I need you to stay in the shoals. Take the watch.”
I shook my head. “No Zeph. I may be the youngest daughter of the house of Nereidos, but the queen’s blood runs through my veins. I can help. I can fight.”
“Of course you can. I trained you myself, didn’t I? But I’m depending on you. You’ll be the last defense. You’re the protector of the inner villages and the stormquartz fields. And Raidne,” he tugged the braid that hung over my shoulder, “you are to protect yourself. You are our heart.” Zeph leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead.
“Alkaios,” he said to our brother, “watch over her.”
Kai didn’t argue.
I glared at Zeph’s back. “Of course, you can fight, Raidne.” I muttered as he strode to the front of our gathered forces. “But I’ll leave a guard for you, so you won’t hurt your helpless self.” I turned to Kai. “Does he realize how his last words undermine everything he said before?”
“If it’s any comfort to you, he doesn’t want me at the battlefront either.”
“Zeph is only three years older than I. Only two years older than you. We have trained and—”
I stopped talking as the queen, our mother walked up to the highpoint of the Isona Promontory. Wrapped in a white robe, trimmed in gold threads and fastened at her shoulder with a large gold clip worked in the insignia of our house, she looked over her assembled soldiers. Her long blonde hair lifted and fluttered in the freshening breeze.
As the sun sank below the horizon, she raised her arms to the sky. Her whole being seemed to spark in the dying light.
Only then did she release her powerful, hypnotic voice, “Once again we are called to defend our homeland and our way of life. Again, an enemy from beyond the sea thinks to roam our seas unsanctioned, to steal our precious resources, our stormquartz, to limit our power, or destroy us if they can.
“They think they know the bounds of our strength, so they have stopped their ears.” Her mocking laughter rang through the surrounding bluffs and eddied through the assembled army. “But this night we will show them that the Syrenii will not bow to any being, above or below the seas.”
Her chaunt began as a low, mournful melody, quickly building in volume and power, increasing in tempo until she was belting a militant but lyrical battle cry. At the crescendo, she unclipped the badge at her shoulder. The white ethereal robe fluttered to the ground to reveal gold scales already spreading down from her hips to encircle and fuse her legs. Before her transformation was complete, she thrust herself from the precipice, her tail fin forming while she descended to the deep blue sea below.
In ranks, we followed our queen, leaving behind a pile of silk and linen robes, wraps, and sarongs to litter the mountain.
At last, Kai and I dove into the sea, but instead of following the advancing army, we swam around the beachhead to the pools protected by the ring of jutting rocks that poked out of the tide like sharpened teeth and nearly surroundedSyreniia, our island home.
Kai took his thumb and smoothed the line between my brows. “This enemy knows our greatest power. They have armed themselves against the siren’s song. The women will be no more powerful than the men in this battle.”
“And yet, I am the only daughter of the queen that isn’t fighting.”
“I understand. Other than Xanthos, who is still with his wet-nurse, I am the only son who is not fighting.”
“Why doesn’t it bother you more?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but a thud and creak of tearing wood broke the night air. Our force had breached the first ship.
I submerged and swam from behind the rock formations so I could see. The waves on the surface frothed with the coming storm, below the water swirled back and forth. Sediment from the sea floor stirred in the swelling water.
Still, I saw the two huge harpoons, those made to hunt whales, break the surface, slanting down through the water. One pierced the shoulder of the leading soldier. The attached rope tautened, and she was pulled toward the surface.
Without thought I started swimming toward her. Kai followed.
With the knife in her left hand, the syrenii sawed at the rope. Moments before she reached the surface, the last strand broke. She paused only a moment before she dove down with the harpoon still jutting from her shoulder. She didn’t stop. She stabbed her steel- tipped spear into the hull next to the hole she had already made. She twisted the spear and pulled at the breach, even as the water darkened with her blood. The hole widened.
Once again, the harpoons speared through the water. Her long dark hair obscured her face, but I recognized my eldest sister, Leucosia. She would be killed if those thick, barbed spears kept coming.
I swam faster than I ever had before into the deeper water, heading toward the ship’s bow, with Kai close on my tail. Clouds of silt obscured my sight of the distant syrenii. Every breath felt as if it came through a filter of sand. When I neared the surface, I slowed and raised only the top of my head above water. I searched the deck of the ship. It took only moments to find the two archers.
Dropping my head below the water, I pushed my words into Kai’s mind. He nodded and swam behind and below me. When we neared the bow of the boat, I took a kneeling position very near the water line, facing the enemy. When I lifted my hand, Kai charged up toward me with powerful strokes, bending and snapping his fin like a whip and building up speed.
With a surge, he half-pushed, half-threw me up into the air. At the apex of my flight, I pulled my right arm back and hurled my spear at the closest harpooner.
Before the sailors could react, I dived back into the sea.
Kai handed me his spear, and sunk below me, so that he could throw me again. Again, my spear flew true, and the second harpooner fell to my bolt.
Kai and I rounded the starboard side of the ship and raced to Cosia. Though her shoulder still bled into the water around her, she resisted until Kai pried the spear from her hands. “I will finish this,” he pushed the thought. “Go with Raidne.”
She considered for another few moments before she inclined her head and joined me. We moved at an angle to avoid the notice of the Jemarri sailors. Cosia swam awkwardly with the harpoon still buried in her shoulder. I slowed to keep pace with her.
By the time we were half a league from the shallow pool in the lea of the rock where Zeph had told us to wait, she was so weakened that I had to carry her. Breathless, I finally settled her in a tide pool deep enough to cover her body and propped her head above the water.
Cosia was pale, but she tried a smile. “Did you just pierce their throwing arms? I know you don’t like to kill.”
I examined the wound. “It was necessary this time. They would have kept shooting until they captured you.”
“Thank you.”
I met her eyes. “The barbs will shred your shoulder if I pull the harpoon out. Do you want to wait for Geia?
“No. You do it. I can’t wait.”
I nodded and put my back against the rock. Cosia submerged herself fully in the water and nodded to me. I gripped the end of the staff closest to the long whale bone head of the harpoon. I drew in one deep breath, and on the exhale, I pulled with all my might. Cosia’s scream spread in ripples through the water, and she passed out.
“No!” I cried. Throwing the harpoon toward the shore, I rolled forward to pull her into my arms. I kept her damaged shoulder in the healing salt water and put my ear to her heart. When I heard the deep thrum, rapid but steady, tears filled my eyes, slid across the bridge of my nose, and dripped onto her chest.
Sitting hip deep in the water and holdingCosia, I watched the rest of the battle. I could only see the men on the ships, fearlessly fighting a fast moving, at times nearly invisible foe. It took two more hours before the last ship sunk beneath the waves.
“It is finished. Everyone will return soon.” Even as I said the words, I knew it was impossible that all would return, but surely all my sisters and brothers.
Cosia was conscious though still pale. She kept her right shoulder in the water and started stretching it gently, working to prevent the loss of her range of motion and strength. “It should never have happened. I must make mother see that her determination to hold onto the old ways won’t work anymore. We must change if we want to survive.”
We fall in love, and everything is wonderful. But let’s be honest, the world intrudes. Sometimes things get hard. But we still have that hope that love can endure?
. . . Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
That’s the dream in real life. Even if we don’t get that dream, or get to keep that dream, that’s the ideal, the wish, the hope. And that’s what we want in our romance books, isn’t it? A love we can believe will endure.
In a chest of tools that might build that kind of lasting love, the ability to laugh has to be included. Humor allows us to live with the little idiosyncrasies in our partner. It allows us to weather those tempests of life. It builds common experiences and a common language.
On top of all that, it is healthy to laugh. I won’t list the research, but we must laugh more.
Believing this, I try to include some humorous situations or dialogue in each of my novels and novellas. While I’m writing those parts, I am chuckling, or smirking, or laughing out loud. But humor is such a subjective thing. Every time I write something I think is funny, I ask myself: But will that reader laugh?
So, I’d love to hear what you think is funny. When was the last time you just guffawed, in real life or in response to a book, movie, or show? What situations in your life make you roll your eyes and chuckle? What ironies make you shake your head with a helpless titter? What did someone say that surprised a laugh out of you?
I’d love you to share. You never know, you may find a similar situation, conversation, or experience in one of my romance novels in the future.
I’ve made this my motto. Actually, the full quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. is “Love is the master key that opens the gates of happiness, of hatred, of jealousy, and, most easily of all, the gate of fear.
I believe this. I just like to focus on happiness or the journey to happiness in love. I don’t mind taking my characters through the other difficulties on the way to love, but I believe that love ultimately brings happiness–and peace, tolerance, patience, joy, meaning. In all aspects of our lives, on a small scale with those around us and on a larger scale as we interact with the world, we are happier and better if we try to see people through the lens of love.
So, I write romance. Even if I wrote another genre, there would be romance, or at least a strong relationship aspect at the center. I mean, what’s the purpose of a story if there is no love?
And on this Christmas Eve, more than ever before, I remember that Love Is the Key to everything good.
One of my college professors once said she wanted to write romances because she thought it would be easy. She described her imagined process like this: write a list of common scenes on 3 x 5 cards, shuffle them, and write the scenes in that order.
I don’t believe she was a lover of the romance genre. If I were taking her class now, I would argue her assumption of ease and her supposed “systematic” approach. My experience has been so very different and much more difficult than she imagined. (And I think more rewarding than what she described).
Some romance authors probably do write according to a formula. They have a structure, perhaps even a template that works for them. They may plan according to trope before they create character. (Example: I’ll write an enemies to lovers romance. So, who are my main characters? Why do they hate each other? What has to happen to bring them together? Answer those questions and create a story). They may even have a few situations that regularly happen in their books.
There are moments when such a system sounds a little tempting. It might make this writing process easier, but I cannot do it for a few important reasons. (Please understand. These reasons are only important to me, to my process, to my satisfaction and joy in writing. This is not a comment on how other writers plan and write).
This is what I’ve learned (and continue to learn) about my writing.
First, characters come first for me. I can’t start with plot. I don’t know what is going to happen until I know my character, and sometimes not even then. I am often surprised as I write. My characters take on a life of their own and almost always change the plot. This is not comfortable or easy, but it keeps me on my toes. And I love the ride!
Second, I can’t write “to trope.” It’s only after I’m a good way through the story that I might recognize a familiar theme or device. I’m editing my novel Under a Honeyed Moon. It has a little bit of a Cinderella beginning and is fundamentally a forced marriage story. (You know, the couple that is found in a socially compromising situation and must marry). I didn’t start out with these tropes. They developed after Evie looked out her window and started talking to her friend about his plans to run away with another girl.
Temporary Cover created in AI and Bookbrush
Third, even the structure of my novels are guided by the characters. Liza demanded to tell her own story, so first person, single point of view. Amelia and Sidonie followed suit. (Helen and Maris did too). But we had to see both Susan and Magnus in alternating points of view, and in third person. Patience required third person and to be the only point of view. Joie has such a strong voice–first person, present tense, flash fiction (less than 1000 words).
I was sure Minna’s story would be told simply in her POV in third person, except then Rupert wanted a little bit of time at the beginning of each chapter.
Now, I’m writing Corinna’s romance. She’s half in love with Lord Wycliff before the story even begins. But their whole relationship is based on a deception and an innocently meant impropriety. What will she do? I’m still finding out, along with her best friend because suddenly, I’m writing an epistolary novel.
No formula. No 3 x 5 cards. Not easy, but I love it! I love discovering and sharing these people and their love stories with you.
For years I thought I could write a book, and that someday I would. Off and on through the years, I thought about it, even wrote down a few ideas.
Then, I turned fifty. That was a shock!
Fifty year old me. It scared me a little to realize so much time had passed.
I realized that if I kept telling myself that “someday” I would and not actually doing something about it, chances were good I would find myself at seventy still saying, “Someday I will write a book.” So I buckled down and wrote a book. It was a fantasy novel, and it wasn’t very good, but I finished it. I learned so much from the writing. I was so proud of myself. And then I “archived” that book. Maybe in the future I’ll revive it and fix it, but for now, it’s hidden away.
Then Covid and quarantine happened. I spent a lot of time reading and thinking.
One day, I thought, “I could actually have something to show at the end of this crazy time if I start now.” I rethought my genre and started writing. I found my voice in romance–historical romance. I wrote a book. I don’t want to brag, but this one was good. Others who read it liked it enough to encourage me. So I put it through editing and published it. I wrote another, and another, (I’m working on my eighth book). I have found a new life.
During Covid, I became an author.
But marketing? I didn’t think about that. The authoring update comes now. Now that I have a series of books published, I have finally taken the time to read, research, listen to podcasts, and talk to other authors about how to find and get my work into the hands of more readers. Some methods are just not going to work for me, but I can write more.
So, this is my new plan: For every series, I will write a prequel and give it away free. For every book I write, I will also write a bonus scene or story so my readers have a little something extra after they read the novel.
This means that in addition to getting my new series ready to publish, I am going back and writing a prequel to my Illusions series. (That series begins with The Secrets We Keep).
The prequel (Under a Honeyed Moon) is almost complete, and I love Evie and Cam’s story. I can’t wait for you to read it!
I also now have all but one bonus story/scene for each of the five books in the Illusions series.
And I’m writing the prequel, some call it a freequel, to my new Love and Honor Series. (Book one is An Honorable Man).
When the prequel is complete (A Match for Minna or Minna and the Miser, which do you think is better?) Either way, when it’s finished I’ll publish the first book (shown below), which is ready and waiting.
Book One in the Love and Honor Series
Book three of the Love and Honor Series is a third of the way written. (I know. You’re asking, where is book two? Well, I’m still thinking about it).
Anyway, this is just to tell you that I have been writing and have a lot of new romance for you. I’m excited to move forward, and I’m really excited to share more love stories with you.
You probably have never heard of Nanowrimo, but for the last few years, I’ve been wanting to try it. Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month. This world-wide event is held every November–Yes, I’m sorry to say, it is in November.
When an author or aspiring author signs up for Nanowrimo, they accept the challenge to begin a new novel on November 1, and try to write 50,000 words by the end of the month. The idea is that by the end of the month, you will have finished a short novel. Think of it–a new romance novel in one month!
I want to tell you about my month long experience. First, let me say, I did not cheat. I planned start a brand new novel that has been percolating in the back of my mind for the last few months. The main character of this first in a new series is Angelica, or Angel as her family calls her, so I’ll use Angel as the working title for now.
Though I didn’t cheat, I also didn’t follow the rules exactly. I just could not begin Angel before I finished An Honorable Man. So, I spent the first 5-6 days finishing the last 11,000 words of this novel. I love it so much, I had a hard time moving on. I just wanted to go back and start editing so I can get it into your hands as soon as possible. But I held strong and kept writing.
So, even though I didn’t begin with the new work on November 1, I planned to write a whole new work in November. I would just start on the 6th. Then, the night before I started Angel, I had this idea for a romance novella. It came into my mind almost fully formed in terms of plotting and characters. I made a sudden departure from my plan and started writing a totally new romance novella.
This is Lady Evelyn’s story. It has some Cinderella elements and then turns into a forced marriage trope. The working title is Honeyed Moon. I worked through the bulk of the month telling the story of Evie and Cam (Lord Camden). I get chills when I think of this novella, which I do believe I will add to in editing. I think it needs to be a full length novel.
So, there I am on Thanksgiving day, surrounded by my family (all 37 of them). I’ve finished for former Work In Progress (An Honorable Man). I’ve finished the surprise Novella (Honeyed Moon). But I am still 5000 words shy of the 50,000 word mark.
So, after my family left, I went back to the original plan and began my new series with Angel and Ramsay’s story. I’m four chapters into that story.
Three novels in various stages in one month. I’m astounded, and tired. Mostly, I am so excited to bring these romances to you. In a perfect world, you’ll have one in January, one in March, and one in May/June. Cross your fingers for me. I’m working furiously.
Is it possible? If you’ve read a scary romance (story, novella, or novel), please tell me the title/author, especially if it was a good story.
My local library has a yearly scary story contest. The only rule is that the piece has to be eight pages or less.
I didn’t plan to write a scary story; it’s not really in my wheelhouse, but my all my fellow writers in my writer’s group were talking about it. Many of them write fantasy, science fiction, suspense, and horror-genres that lend themselves to a little scary. But someone suggested I try a gothic romance. I haven’t been able to forget about it since. Now I have four ideas, so I’m taking a little break from my latest novel and writing a few short stories. The only problem is I’m not sure I will be able to keep any of them to less than eight pages. So watch for a gothic story from me here on the site in October.
And, I’d love to read your scary story. If you’d like, I’ll post it here. Embrace the season with me and let’s all challenge ourselves to try something new!
Recently, I had an opportunity to guest blog for RWSL. So for today, you get a little bit of writing technique advice. Don’t close down yet. It’s not an English class. This might help in your own writing or speaking or social posts. So here goes.
In my writing group, we’ve been talking about filters. It’s made me hyper-sensitive to words and phrases that separate my readers from my action. Editing these filters has strengthened my writing. So let’s talk about filtering here.
The phrase ‘filtering’ comes from Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway. She writes, “you step back and ask readers to step back and observe the observer—to look at [the character] rather than through the character—you start to tell-not-show and rip us briefly out of the scene.” Filters are words that come between our readers and our character’s point of view or their experience. They pull the reader out of the action.
Once you’ve become aware, you’ll begin to notice filters everywhere, and I guarantee that you’ll want to banish them as much as possible from your writing. Here is an example (filters in bold). First draft and edited excerpt from The Lies We Tell by Gigi Lynn:
The rocking of the carriage and the bumps in the road kept me holding onto my seat. I thought miserably about the day. I looked down at the boy’s clothes I wore, now much worse for the drying mud. I asked myself what did I have to show for my unladylike defiance and descent into immodesty?
I found a maid I no longer wanted but lost a dog I did. I had no papers, and I had no more information about what Hugh was doing. I asked myself, what did all of this have to do with me? I had never been involved in Hugh’s vices. I told myself shouldn’t feel responsible. I knew I wasn’t equipped to expose smugglers or fight women who ran brothels. I had been taught to be a lady. I realized that I had no other skills. What a muddle I had made of things I thought in discouragement.
The rocking of the carriage and the bumps in the road kept me holding onto my seat. What a miserable day. My boy’s clothes stuck to me, more disreputable for the mud. And what did I have to show for my unladylike defiance and descent into immodesty?
I found a maid I no longer wanted but lost a dog I did. I had no papers and no more information about what Hugh was doing. What did all of this have to do with me? I had never been involved in Hugh’s vices. I wasn’t responsible. I wasn’t equipped to expose smugglers or fight women who ran brothels. I was taught to be a lady. I had no other skills. What a muddle I had made of things.
When we take out the words that come before the action, our readers will experience the action and emotions more immediately. They will be in the story, living what happens along with the character.
Now that you’ve seen what a difference filtering makes, you’ll start noticing phrases like:
I watched as— She realized that— He noticed— He saw that— I felt like— She knew— I decided right then that— It seemed— He wondered— She thought— She heard— It sounded like— There are others, but you get the idea.
It’s our goal to have readers enter our stories. We want them to feel what our characters feel. We want them to experience the action with our character, not through our character. If we remove most of the filters from our writing, our readers will more vividly experience every action and emotion in our stories. so let’s write unfiltered!
“Gigi Lynn grew up in Las Vegas, devouring romance novels like they were candy. She studied and later taught English literature and writing—and continued to read romance novels voraciously. She raised seven children and read to them every day—and often read romance novels for fun or escape. She always said she would write one day. One day is now! She recently published two regency romance novels and a novella. Another novella will go live mid-October 2021.
I have read quite a bit of Alice Walker’s writings. Though not easy reading, I find her novels and short stories worth the work–thought provoking and mind broadening. However, some of my favorite things that Alice Walker has written I’ve found in forewords, prefaces, essays, interviews, and here in an address to students from her Alma mater, Spellman College:
