By Tanith Davenport (Guest Blogger)
Everyone
has their own opinion on it, and it comes up in every interview - are
we plotters or pantsers? It's a question I've always struggled with,
because my own writing technique often seems to fall between the
lines. So I gave it some thought while I was working on Echoes of
Love.
With
my first book I had absolutely no idea about planning, so I did what
seemed to come naturally. As I was working with two POVs, I needed to
keep track of who was doing what at any given moment, so I worked
with timelines to make sure everything stayed straight. The actual
plot was planned out using general plot points but without detailing
what strung them together, and these were revised as I went. So with
that book I suppose I was more of a plotter.
With
another, I had already sold the book to my editor based on a detailed
synopsis, so that one was more closely planned and only altered
slightly. It did, however, feel a little constricting for my usual
tastes. I've worked this way a few times since and, to be honest, I
prefer to write the synopsis at the end rather than the beginning,
since there have been many times when the story has developed in a
way that messed up what I had planned. So there's definitely a degree
of pants-ing to my writing.
And
I always need to be able to call a halt and say "You know what,
this isn't working." The most difficult story I ever wrote was
one where I had a deadline at the end of the month and the whole
thing seemed to be collapsing around me. It worked out in the end,
but for this reason I hate working to deadlines. There's always the
possibility that something won't be working, that characters won't
behave, and I don't want to risk letting people down because the
story won't flow.
For
Echoes of Love I only half-planned the story. I planned out
the encounters with the vardoger, since that was the main hook of the
story. However, it wasn't until later that I decided to introduce
elements such as the ouija board and the illness of one of the
characters. Those elements changed how the story flowed and also
meant a slight reworking of the ending, so I went back a few times,
altered the timeline and reshuffled a few points to include these
sections. Plotter? In this instance, I would say not.
So
I guess I'm no further along as to whether I'm a plotter or a
pantser. The simple answer seems to be that I'm a bit of both. On
longer novels I like to plot, but I always need the freedom to be
able to switch things around, change characters, move timelines and
throw in twists. I'll never be the kind of person who can work
straight from a synopsis and have all the points in place before I
start.
I'm
giving away one copy of Echoes of Love to one lucky person who leaves a comment. Let me know what you think! (And don't forget to include your email address so I can fine you!)
Blurb
Paranormal
writer Kala Westenra, staying with her best friend Vika in Norway, is
hunting for a new subject for an article, and finds it when she hears
footsteps in the hall twenty minutes before Vika's hot brother Tor
Viitanen arrives home. This, Vika tells her, is the vardoger - a
Norwegian ghost, a future echo which always precedes a person's
arrival.
Kala
plans to stake out the hallway to catch the vardoger in the act - and
is shocked when, on its arrival, it kisses her. Her feelings for Tor
have been hidden ever since she first met him two years ago; could it
be that the vardoger is acting on Tor's secret desire for her?
As
Kala and Tor work together to understand what is happening with the
spirit, their longing for each other begins to overtake them - but
the vardoger has more to show them than they expected...
Excerpt
Tor
reached over the arm of the sofa, pulled up a cushion and threw it at
her. Vika threw it back, knocking over her wineglass at the same
time.
“Here,
let me get you a refill.” Kala reached for the bottle, but it was
empty. Vika stood and made for the door, picking up her jacket from
the hook on the back on her way past.
“I’ll
run out and get another one. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Kala
launched the cushion after her, hitting the door instead.
“I
can see why you and my sister get on so well.” Tor raised an
eyebrow. “You’re both drunks.”
“Oh,
shut up. I’m still technically a student. I can drink if I like.”
“Soon
to be a writer and they drink a lot, too, I’ve heard.”
Kala
laughed. “I don’t know about journalists, though. Although I’d
quite like to be a writer, too—novels or something. I don’t know
what kind yet.”
“I’ll
keep my eyes open for your hot new release.”
Ooh.
Kala
held his gaze, her insides stirring strangely. Maybe it was the
alcohol, but there was something in the words hot
release that made a rush of heat flow
through her body, her skin tingling.
After
a long moment, Tor spoke again. “So, Vika thinks you need a man.”
“I
don’t need
a man. I may want
a man.”
“Oh,
yeah?” Something flickered across Tor’s face, his eyes glowing.
He shifted onto his knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa, his face
close to hers. “What sort of man do you want?”
“Oh,
you know. We hotshot journalists don’t like to be tied down.”
Kala gave him a taunting look, leaning closer to him so that their
faces were almost touching. “Tall, dark, commitment-phobic. That’ll
do me.”
“I
can help you there.”
A
sudden rush of movement and Tor’s mouth was on hers.
This
is a bad idea. He’s
Vika’s brother.
But
somehow she no longer cared and Tor was right here and he was moving,
moving over the arm of the sofa as they were still kissing, then his
body was pressing down onto hers and they were still—
To
hell with it, she thought and arched up
against him, tangling her fingers in his hair.
She
felt his hard cock through his jeans as it brushed against her leg,
sending a dart of wet heat straight to her cunt. His hands ran down,
caressing her neck, her shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling
his thumbs over her nipples through her bra.
Oh,
God—
Then
the sound of the lock clicking.
Immediately,
Tor rolled off her and onto the floor, twisting round to position
himself back at the side of the sofa. Kala sat up and ran a hand
through her hair.
Shit,
that was close.
“Here's
the wine,” Vika announced as she came through the door, shopping
bag in hand. “I got back as fast as I could.”
About
the Author
Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.
Tanith
has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of
Erotica.
She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving
tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink
Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's
idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.
8 comments:
Hi, Tanith! Thanks for being my guest.
This sounds like an interesting story. I've never heard of a "vardoger". How did you find out about this legend?
I enjoyed reading about how you go about writing your storyline for your books. I admire all authors and always wondered how they came up with the plot to the story. I look forward to reading this story. Thank you so much for sharing. Catherine cthrn.lmnsk@gmail.com
Thanks for having me on here! I'm an avid reader of the Foreman Times who did a piece about vardogers. What amused me was that they weren't seen as scary, more that they were helpful with household scheduling - unusual for a ghost.
Fortean Times - autocorrect got me!
I just spent the day writing a couple of chapters in my latest book, and am exhausted from writing the detailed sex scene. But now, reading your excerpt, it's like I have new energy! ;-D
Thanks for sharing.
Fiona
fiona.mcgier@gmail.com
Thank you, I'm so glad you liked it!
was interesting
bn100candg at hotmail dot com
And the winner is Fiona McGier! I'll send your copy over shortly.
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