I wrote this blog for my publisher a few years back, but thought it’s still applicable – so I thought I’d share. Comments appreciated 🙂
Writer or Storyteller?
“To be or not to be “ ….. Now I’m not here to tell you that there’s difference. Quite honestly, I wouldn’t dare. I’m not Wikipedia. But in my humble opinion, yes there is one. See, when people come up to me and ask whether I’m an writer I’m always tempted to tell them I’m a storyteller.
I’m not a writer. For the life of it, I cannot sit down and just write, may it be a story, blog or even a letter. I need the “right moment”, most of the time it’s the “right music” that makes me wonder off into a daydream – and bingo! I’ve thought about how the next scene for my story could be. I don’t plot, I don’t develop characters, I just write down my words. So, I’ve got the music, I’ve got my laptop and jot it down. Easy and straight forward. After a few months I’ve got a really nice story and I ask friends for their opinion – luckily they’ve always liked it so far. Now comes the part writers do from the very beginning: my story now needs to be polished with “show not tell”, with the right POV and to bring a “flow” into the sentences. Then you send it off to a pro Editor for more polishing.
Now for me a writer has learnt these talents (or they even come naturally to them) – They can show the character’s heart is aching in a way that the reader is searching for their tissues to wipe a tear. They describe the scene so subtly you don’t notice the words, but you have the picture right in front of you. They have the hang of the POVs. They know where they want the story to go to and they know how to get there. Read a good book, not necessarily a bestseller, and concentrate on just those points and you see what I mean.
Writing a book is a craft and should honestly not be underestimated. I know I did! So if you think you have a great story all your friends and critique partners loved, do yourself a favour and have it polished into that diamond that it deserves to be!
AUTHOR – Kim Iverson Headlee
GENRE – Science Fiction/Fantasy Time-Travel Romance
LENTH (Pages/# Words) – (350 pages/70K words)
PUBLISHER – Lucky Bat Books
COVER ARTIST – Jennifer Doneske
ILLUSTRATORS – Jennifer “The Royal Portraitist” Doneske and Tom “The Creature King” Doneske
BOOK BLURB / SYNOPSIS –
“Solidly entertaining.” –Publishers Weekly
Winner, 2016 IBPA Benjamin Franklin Gold Medal for Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Winner, Summer 2016 NABE Best Fantasy Book.
Morgan le Fay, sixth-century Queen of Gore and the only major character not killed off by Mark Twain in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, vows revenge upon the Yankee Hank Morgan. She casts a spell to take her to 1879 Connecticut so she may waylay Sir Boss before he can travel back in time to destroy her world. But the spell misses by 300 miles and 200 years, landing her in the Washington, D.C., of 2079, replete with flying limousines, hovering office buildings, virtual-reality television, and sundry other technological marvels.
Whatever is a time-displaced queen of magic and minions to do? Why, rebuild her kingdom, of course—two kingdoms, in fact: as Campaign Boss for the reelection of American President Malory Beckham Hinton, and as owner of the London Knights world-champion baseball franchise.
Written as though by the old master himself, King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court by Mark Twain as channeled by Kim Iverson Headlee offers laughs, love, and a candid look at American society, popular culture, politics, baseball… and the human heart.
ALL CALL ME Queen. For my unparalleled skills in leechcraft, most call me “The Wise.” No man dares call me “le Fay,” lest he die.
I hight Morgan.
That is to say, my name is Morgan, so chosen by my mother, Duchess Igraine, to honor the Great Queen of the Old Religion, Mór Rigan, goddess of war. My mother never knew how prophetic her choice would prove to be.
I am the daughter of Duke Gorlois, the sister of Queen Margawse and Queen Elaine, the wife of King Uriens of Gore, and the mother of Sir Uwaine of the Table Round. Blessed good fortune made me all of these things.
By the capricious hand of ill fortune, King Arthur became my younger half brother, spawned upon my most virtuous and blameless mother by that demon in man’s raiment, Uther Pendragon.
I despised Arthur from the very hour of his birth.
Kim Headlee’s Romantic Idea:
I love to travel but I also love to find great deals on lodging and transportation so that I can use the rest of my vacation budget to splurge on activities. My husband and I began a tradition a few years ago to make a beach getaway in November, which is the off season for many Northern Hemisphere beach destinations. We love sharing dawn and sunset beach walks, usually with a meal afterward because we’ve worked up an appetite. We’ve enjoyed Cancun and several other Caribbean destinations, though our current favorite fall beach retreat is Myrtle Beach, SC. That region’s restaurants can be pricey, even in the off season, so getting an outstanding deal on hotel reservations is a must! Wherever we travel, we’ve found there’s nothing more romantic than the sound of the surf wafting through the balcony window on a mild fall evening.
Kim Headlee lives on a farm in southwestern Virginia with her family, cats, goats, Great Pyrenees goat guards, and assorted wildlife. People and creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old house ruins—the latter having been occupied as recently as the midtwentieth century—seem to be sticking around for a while yet.
Kim has been an award-winning novelist since 1999 (Dawnflight, Sonnet Books, Simon & Schuster) and has been studying Arthurian legends and literature for nigh on half a century.
2015 YouTube video interview: http://youtu.be/DV5iKrEIROk
Believing he is cursed, Tristram, Lord Trevena, the Earl of Longstone, agrees to do just one favor for a friend, to dance with the man’s sister, but the beautiful and headstrong Isabel Albryght will settle for no less than claiming his lonely heart.
A PROPHECY FORETOLD
Raised by her doting older brother, Isabel Albryght grew up cosseted and protected. She enjoyed her life in the country, her books, and her freedom. Then her brother married. Within months Isabel’s best friend married. It seemed it was time for Isabel to marry, too. Socially awkward and a bit too keen for most of the ton, Isabel proceeded to have the most horrible season on record…until she was approached by Tristram, the Earl of Longstone.
Two dances. That was all Tristram could offer anyone when considering his family curse, which had taken all he loved in the last ten years, so his promise to the beautiful Miss Albryght’s brother was simply that. The ton would soon see she was a desirable partner, her awkwardness would fade and other young swains would beat feet to her doorstep. But then he held her in his arms, and the delightful Isabel became his beating heart. Headstrong and full of passion, she believed she might waltz them away from Death. She alone could tempt him to try.
Multi-published historical romance author Alanna Lucas grew up in Southern California, but always dreamed of distant lands and bygone eras. From an early age, she took an interest in history and travel, and is thrilled to incorporate those diversions into her writing. Alanna writes Regency and Western historical romance.
When she is not daydreaming of her next travel destination Alanna can be found researching, spending time with family, or going for long walks. She makes her home in California with her husband, children, one sweet dog, and hundreds of books.
Just for the record, you can never have too many shoes, handbags, or books. And travel is a must.
The temperature in the room rose by several degrees—it was positively sweltering. Isabel did not know how much longer she could tolerate standing in the midst of hell, surrounded by a mixture of unidentifiable odors and loud boisterous laughter. She thought her head would explode.
Closing her tired eyes, she brought her gloved hand to her temple. Isabel could feel her body sway, but was unable to stop the motion. She could not even gather her wits about her to stamp down, or even beg, the feelings to cooperate. Isabel could sense another mishap was forthcoming, which further added to her distress. And she had been doing so well.
A gentle hand came to her elbow. “Allow me to accompany you onto the balcony for some fresh air, Miss Albryght.” Lord Trevena’s voice broke through the haze. His tone was soft and full of concern.
Isabel opened her eyes; they felt thick and heavy, and still out of focus. Tristram somehow managed to maneuver her through the crush without bumping into anyone. The moment they reached the unoccupied balcony, the cool evening breeze cleared the haziness Isabel had been fighting in her head.
They strolled to the edge of the balcony, partly hidden within the shadows, and clear of any curious gossipmongers. The garden beyond was concealed in darkness, but the lingering scent of blooming roses wafted through the air. Tristram released his gentle hold on her arm. The absence of his hand made her heart lurch, wanting more.
Isabel turned to face him. Even in the dim light, his clear blue eyes sparkled like stars in the night. She struggled to find the words, but when they finally came, they would not stop.
“Thank you for coming to my aid. I am quite recovered now. The room was quite warm and the noise…”
“Isabel,” Tristram said in a deep husky tone. Her name on his lips sent a jolt of excitement through her body.
Taking a step closer, he brought his hand to her face, his gloved thumb dancing intimately across her cheek. Her heart pounded against her ribs, practically stealing her breath.
“Lord Trevena.” His name exited her lips in a breathy gasp.
He bent his head and whispered his name across her cheek. “Tristram.”
Isabel could not imagine anything more sensual than this moment. She lifted her chin, and their cheeks brushed. His lips were so close, but still too far away. His warm breath teased her senses. Closing her eyes, she waited for his kiss.