AKA When the Universe Gives you a Gift you didn’t Know You Needed

I spent this past weekend at the Washington Romance Writers annual retreat, In the Company of Writers. I didn’t go last year because I made a “business” decision that it wasn’t worth my dollars. I figured there were no readers there other than authors who already knew me. And even this year, I wasn’t that enthused about going, but since I’m the secretary of the board of the chapter, I felt a responsibility to be there. My attitude was a Big. Mistake.

Writing is a lonely job. I’m at my desk for hours a day, and I don’t think social media counts as a real connection. People need people. And more importantly, writers need writers. So off I went to Westminster MD armed with chocolate, raffle baskets, and a costume for Romance Jeopardy. I was ready to take notes on marketing and strategize my business plan based on talks from Liliana Hart, and maybe I’d connect with some editors and put in a good word for my currently shopped manuscript.

But something else happened. Something I wasn’t expecting. Sometimes in life the Universe slaps you in the face in such a way you can’t ignore. To ignore it would be akin to blasphemy. It started at Liliana’s Friday night talk. She was passionate. She was excited about the business. She “Knows” me, because we are writers.

The next morning I sat in on Diana Cosby’s marketing talk. I figured we’d talk social media, blogs, and Book Bub. Instead we talked PASSION. We talked AUTHENTICITY. And the buzzing in my heart reignited, because the things Diana was talking about were things that I HAVEN’T been doing. For the last year (maybe two) I’ve been too busy focusing on numbers and branding and a zillion other things that don’t matter if you’ve got what Diana’s got. Passion. I’d lost my passion. My decision to not attend the retreat in 2013 was about my head, not my heart. My heart was hidden behind sales rankings and my number of Likes on Facebook.

And then came Cathy Maxwell’s farewell speech on Sunday morning. It all came crashing home for me. I hid it well, but I was in tears in the back row wondering how I’d let this happen. As Cathy said, I got in my own way. My definition of success was the WRONG one. I need to open my heart and mind and body and be PRESENT.

I spent the hour drive home with a tight throat and tears intermittently falling. I need my passion back. I need to redefine what success for ME looks like, and I need to stop looking at other writers and defining MY success based on theirs. I drove in my car and decided that I will define success if I make an emotional connection for my readers. I’ll write books that matter to me, and I hope to you. Don’t worry, they’ll still be hot and sexy, because I think passion matters.

Have you ever been hit with a message you didn’t even know you needed?

“You like it?” He asked. “You liked having my dick in your mouth?”

She blushed at his frank question, but found the bravery to lick her lips and nod. “Yes. I loved it.”

“Good. I fucking loved it. I want you in my mouth soon. When you’re ready,” he amended. “Can’t wait to taste you. I bet it’s the sweetest juice in the world.”

She tried to speak but couldn’t. She’d never imagined Rowan like this. His body, his words were darkly sexual, testing her limits in ways that aroused her unbearably even as she flushed with embarrassment.

“Are you wet now, Jill?” His question was like velvet rolled across her naked skin.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

“Can I feel?” His voice was quiet and gentle now. “Just one touch, I promise, and then I’ll back off. I swear.”

Her answer was to lower her hands to her jeans and unfasten them. The satisfaction on Rowan’s face was worth every tiny nibble of anxiety. Slowly and so gently, it felt like butterfly wings on her abdomen, he lowered his hand between her legs and ghosted a finger under the elastic band of her panties. She knew what he’d find there.

“Wet,” he whispered, sounding awed and excited at the same time. Before she had time to react, he removed his finger from between her legs and touched it to his tongue. “Delicious.”

She stared at him, frozen on the bed, legs splayed apart. His touch had felt too glorious. She nearly begged for more, but something kept her mouth closed. Instinct? Self-preservation? Her body was screaming yes, and a good chunk of her brain was also.

“You’re not ready yet,” Rowan decided. “Someday soon, your pants will come off, your legs will spread, and my mouth will be there, licking up all your honey.”

She released a noise that was almost a squeak at Rowan’s dirty mouth that had her arousal building to a fever pitch. His smile warmed her further.

“You like that,” he said, looking down at her. “You like when I tell you all the dirty bad things I want to do to your body?”

She managed a nod.

“Good. I’m going to erase every bad memory you have of your marriage and replace it with the best sex you’ve ever imagined.”

She couldn’t imagine it, but she believed him. She believed him, and she couldn’t wait for the promised great sex.

Want more dirty talk from Rowan? Check out Desperate Match available at: Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, All Romance eBooks

The other day I was at the supermarket and I saw a woman with some seriously crazy hair. It was white and looked like cotton balls stuck all over her head. I wondered if she knew her hair was looking a little off, and then she took it off. It was a hat! She’d tucked her hair into the hat, and to a stranger, the hat looked like her (weird) hair. She KNEW it wasn’t her hair, so when she looked in a mirror, it would never occur to her to think her hair looked weird, because her subconscious knew it was only a hat.

Do we do something similar as writers. When I hand off my manuscript to my beta readers, there are so many parts of the story I have in my head, do I remember to put them all down explicitly for the reader? Every so often a readers will ask a question, and I’ll wonder why they would ask such a thing. Isn’t it OBVIOUS?

Perhaps not.  We run into this danger, especially in a series. I’m working on Book 5 of my Coded for Love Series, and I just assume readers of the book have read the other 4 and know every minute detail the way I do. Bad assumption.

So what to do?

Get a fresh pair of eyes. Have a stranger read the book and put question marks in the margins where they have questions. Have you ever experienced this in real life or while reading a book.