There You’ll Find Me: The Lost Chapter
I wrote TYFM a number of times, never liking what I had. I was two weeks away from turning it in, two-hundred pages in and…I trashed it. I knew it all had to go.
Before I trashed it all, the book had a different title. And Finley did not have an eating disorder–Erin did. Beckett, the famous actor from vampire movies, did not exist. A hard-working, man-of-the-house senior named Max did. Finley was still a hotel heiress, while Max helped put food on the table for his single mom. They disliked each other immediately. Eventually I was bored by the both of them and knew they had to change.
This is one of the many rough and deleted scenes in which eighteen-year old Finley finds herself at a party with her host sister, Erin. Finley’s worked hard in the last year to outrun her wild-child ways after the death of her brother. She just wants to experience this last year of high school in Ireland, stay out of trouble, and get her heart back. And things, of course, do not go according to plan.
Chapter Six
Sometimes I think I have the gift of prophecy.
I just had this bad feeling about tonight’s party. It could’ve been how I’m so in touch with the universe. It could’ve been some well-defined sixth sense.
Or it could’ve been the fact that I’m crawling out of a two story window at eleven p.m., seconds away from either getting caught or pitching head first to my death.
“I don’t know about this.” I slip my foot into a nook on the trellis.
Erin’s labored breathing is enough to wake up the entire town. “It’s. . .” She reaches out to steady herself. “It’s going to be fine. I do this all the time.”
I don’t want to brag, especially when dangling one story off the ground, but I can read people. But I did not pick up on any “I like to get crazy on a school night” vibes from one Erin O’Callahan.
“And you’re sure this is going to be a Rated PG party?” I hiss as a splinter jabs beneath my fingernail.
“What do you mean?”
I’m just going to take that as a no.
With all the skill and idiocy of tightrope walkers, we finally make it to the ground.
Wiping the dust off my jeans, I follow follow Erin across the yard. “If there are gonna be drugs at this party, just tell me now.”
Erin stomps down the hill, in the direction of the road. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that type of girl. My parents have something against Patricia Reiley. Only reason we didn’t get their permission.”
“Right.”
With the glow of street lights and our cell phones, we make it to the road, where Beatrice sits in her mother’s running car.
“You made it!” Beatrice squeals as soon as I slide into the backseat. “Oh, I love your sweater.” She eyes my pink cardigan and sparkly tank with approval. “Very rocker chic.” Next she inspects Erin, who struggles with her seatbelt. “That’s not what I told you to wear.”
Erin lifts her head, regarding Beatrice as if she’s just delivered a moral wound. “My new skirt was dirty. What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing. It’s fine.” Beatrice chews on her top lip as the dome light dims. “It’s just that. . .well, stripes don’t really slenderize, if you know what I mean.”
Erin looks down at her gray and white shirt. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”
“But it’s fine.” Fashion lesson over, Beatrice throws the car into gear and puts us into motion. It still feels weird to drive on the opposite side of the road, and like everything else new in my life, I wonder if I’ll ever adapt.
It’s a short drive to Patricia Reiley’s, and I try to memorize each left and right turn just in case I need to ride back with someone else.
Beatrice hangs a sharp curve then whips the car into a paved driveway that seems to come from nowhere.
“Here we are.”
The two-story yellow house looms before me as we walk behind Beatrice like dutiful followers. Music pounds from the inside out, and I can hear party voices before we’re even to the porch.
Beatrice walks in without a knock, and at least ten people shout out her name. A few greet Erin, who introduces me to everyone we pass.
Ten minutes later, I want to go home.
Not to the O’Callahan’s.
But my house.
Where my parents are.
To my friends.
And my bedroom
And my bed where I can listen to my iPod and pull the covers over my head until the world goes away.
“Finley, you want to dance?”
Beatrice motions me to follow her to the center of the living room where the furniture has all been pushed away.
“No. You go ahead.”
“Come on,” Erin says. “Give it a go.”
I open my mouth to refuse again. But then Erin tilts her head and looks at me. I’ve seen that face before. On Spencer the Loser Ex-Boyfriend. When he would tell me how my dark mood was ruining his good time. How I was never fun anymore. The face he wore when he broke up with me.
“Lead the way,” I say, and Beatrice gives a giddy squeal, like a pistol that officially starts the event.
Twenty minutes later I’m dancing next to Erin, Beatrice, some girl named Elizabeth, and three guys from Doolin. Two of the boys smell like the inside of a Miller Light can, but Beatrice and her group haven’t touched a drop of alcohol that I can see. Still, as I watch others come out of the kitchen with foaming drinks, I can hear my mother’s admonishment. Feel her disappointment a continent away.
“What are you doing after graduation?” Beatrice yells near my ear.
“No idea.” How is it my gloomy reality finds me even at a party? I’m pretty sure I didn’t extend it an invitation.
“I’m going to university. Gonna be a banker like my dad.” She turns to one of the guys. “Jonathan, what about you?”
“Still deciding between two universities. But I still want to go to med school.”
“Do you know what school you’re going to?” Beatrice asks me.
“No.” I have to yell above the music.
“You are going though, right?”
I shrug and narrowly miss Jonathan’s swinging arms, as his imitation of a windmill seems to be his signature move. “I don’t think so.”
“Of course you are.” She gives an exaggerated laugh, and I smell something fruity on her breath that I’m pretty sure isn’t Hubba Bubba. “You’re like American royalty. You have to go to school.” She throws her hands up in the air as the song ends. “Cigarette break!” Beatrice shouts as she holds out her hand to one of the guys nearby. He promptly places a pack of Marlboro’s in her palm. “Chat time on the back deck! Who’s coming?”
A cheer goes up from the group around us, and everyone follows Beatrice out.
“Erin, I don’t think I need to stay here. I—” Before I can give my exit strategy, Erin grabs me by the hand and pulls me with them. I might’ve done some stupid things in the last year or so. In fact, I have a list of regrets that could fill Max’s whole one subject notebook, but I don’t smoke.
At least fifteen people join us outside, taking up chairs, sitting on the floor of the porch, propping themselves up on the railing.
“I brought drinks!” A new guy joins us, holding up a pitcher.
“Ugh, I’ll regret it tomorrow, but pour!” Beatrice lights up a cigarette and holds it toward me like a present.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m not a smoker either,” she says. “It’s just a party accessory.”
I think bigger earrings would look better.
As the guy hands her a drink, Beatrice takes a drag and blows rings into the air. Definitely not a novice puffer here. “Get Erin a drink!” She turns to Erin. “We’ll have to workout more tomorrow, eh?” The two laugh, and I feel myself pulling further away, sinking lower into my seat. My mind flashes to other parties, other groups of friends. Laughing, drinking, doing anything I could to numb the pain and keep Spencer in my life.
I can’t do this. I promised myself. I promised my parents.
This can’t be me anymore. I don’t want this to be me.
But yet I’m stuck.
“Who’s ready for a game?” Beatrice waits until she has everyone’s attention. I have a feeling she’s not about to drag out the Monopoly board. “Let’s play. . .truth or dare!”
Only the worst game ever.
I miss the days of elementary school parties where your mom would drag out a piñata. Not only did you get to whack it with a baseball bat until you felt like a new kid, but as a reward for your violence, candy would rain down like manna from heaven.
“Finley, you’re up first.”
My heart thuds in my chest as Beatrice fixes her full attention on me and everyone else does the same.
“Truth or dare?”
I have no idea what these people’s idea of a dare is. But I don’t think I want to risk it. “Finley?”
I open my mouth.
Then close it.
“I. . .” The words won’t come. Even as everyone stares at me, I can’t get the sentences to form. They might be the elite of the town, but I don’t know a single one of these people. They don’t care about me. My story. Where I’ve been. “I. . .” Have to go. Have to run. Have to disappear. “I have to pee.”
And I shoot out of my chair, knock over someone’s drink, and dash inside.
“Finley! Wait!”
Erin’s hand on my arm finally stops me. I turn and see her. Really see her. Her drink in her hand, her vertical stripes. “I want to go back to the house.”
“We can’t.” Her eyes are pleading. “Not yet. Please, just stay a little bit longer. If we leave now, I might never get invited back.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” I look around and see the same mess I left back in Charleston. “You lied to me. You said this wasn’t going to be some crazy party.”
“You knew it wasn’t birthday cake and ice cream.”
And she’s right. I did know it was wrong, and I went along with it anyway. “This just doesn’t seem like your scene.”
Hurt flashes in her expression. “You barely know me.”
“I know you well enough.” I shake my head. “If this is what you want to do, fine. I definitely have no room to judge. But I can’t be here.”
She lifts her chin. “So you’re going to leave?”
“Can you find me a ride?”
She looks around, her face tight with embarrassment. “I don’t know who could take you.”
“Never mind. Just never mind.”
I squeeze through a group of dancers, sidestep a couple tangled up like a pretzel, nearly slip on a spill of who-knows-what, then finally stumble outside.
I stand on the front step and just let the air fill my lungs.
God, how much longer are you going to let me operate in freak mode?
I turn back to the house, see a few people staring out the windows.
I mentally retrace the map in my head of the way back to the O’Callahan’s and take off down the driveway. I hold my phone up like a weak flashlight and say a quick prayer that nothing will come along that could eat me. I have no idea if Ireland has wild beasts. It’s not like I’m in the ‘burbs.
I’m about a half mile down a rough road when my feet start sending SOS signals.
And when the headlights come my way.
The lights shine in my face, and my heart races at the thought of it being Erin’s parents on a search mission. My mother will kill me.
The lights grow brighter as it approaches, and I shield my eyes, trying to put on a normal expression. If I look like I’m just out for a stroll, nobody will stop. I smile with a peace I do not possess and pump my arms like I’m working on some cardio. Because who doesn’t go out for a power walk at midnight?
The vehicle stops a few feet away.
My skin pebbles in the cold, and I just keep walking.
“You want to tell me what the heck you’re doing?”
Relief pours over me as the vehicle takes the shape of a familiar truck, and I recognize the petulant face sticking out.
“Just getting some exercise,” I say as I cruise by Max’s driver’s side door.
“Get in the truck.”
“Go away.”
His voice gets louder behind me. “You really don’t want to keep walking.”
“Actually I do.” My ankle turns, and I flail my arms to keep my balance. “Very invigorating.”
“You’re going the wrong way.”
My feet scuff on the ground as I stop. Well, hasn’t this been a humbling night? I try to sigh, but it comes out like a whimper.
Max steps out of the truck and walks to the other side, flinging open the passenger door. “Get in.”
“You’re big chance to dump my body in an undisclosed ditch.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”
Seeing me struggle with the step up, he extends his hand. I stare at it like it’s a grenade, but I’m too tired to argue. My palm rests in his, and his calloused fingers clasp tight as he helps me into the truck. I hold his hand for a second too long, just enough space to compare the texture of our skin, the size of his hand engulfing mine.
I buckle up as he walks around and resumes his seat behind the wheel.
“So were you walking home?” he asks as the truck chugs into gear. “Or walking back to America?”
“Are you cruising the town or just trolling the streets for girls?”
“You answer first.”
I sit there for a few moments and let my head loll against the ragged head rest. “I don’t know what I was doing tonight,” I finally say. “Trying to fit in, I guess.”
“And trying to get in trouble?”
“It’s kind of my style these days. My thing.”
“So you thought you’d get in trouble with the O’Callahans? Is that how you repay their hospitality—by sneaking out to a party on your ______ night here?”
“Well, I was going to make them some banana bread, but that darn stove broke.” I didn’t really think tonight. I just. . .went. I feel trapped in this small town already. And anxious. And. . .alone. “And your cousin talked me into it, so don’t act like I’m the lone bad guy here. What are you doing out this late anyway?”
He slants me a look. “Worked late on some plumbing at the B&B. I saw you sneak out. You’re terrible at it.”
“My counselor says I subconsciously want to get caught.” He doesn’t know what to do with this, so I continue. “My parents sent me to one after my brother died last year. I went a little, um, wild.”
“Shopped at discount stores?”
“No.” It’s impossible to prove to the world you’re not some indulged rich kid when you have the same last name as half the hotels in the country. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got involved in stuff I shouldn’t have and got in a bunch of trouble.” And this was supposed to be my chance to start over.
“I’m sorry about your brother.” In the quiet of the cab, his words sound like pistol shots.
Will would not exactly be proud of this moment. Or most of them from the last year. “He was older than me,” I say. “But we were close.”
“So why’d you leave the party?”
“I didn’t like their snacks.” He looks at me until I see his frown. “I’m not any fun.”
“News flash.”
“Once upon a time I was a really good girl. I would’ve been home, safety tucked in bed.”
“And now you’re not that girl?”
How did I explain it? That I had something pursuing me, something dragging me down? “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m definitely not the girl I was, but yet I’m not cool enough for the party scene anymore.”
“Cool? Is that what you call walking down the road in the middle of the night?”
We ride in silence for a few moments before I finally break it. “Tell me, Max of the Surly Disposition, do you know what you want to do with your life?”
He turns left on a rocky road. “Yes.”
I look turn away from the chiseled profile of his face and stare out the window, searching the night sky for any signs of life.
“Why don’t you worry about more pressing things right now like keeping out of trouble with Sean and Nora?” His voice sharpens with every word. “They’re good people, and they don’t deserve someone taking advantage of their hospitality.”
“It’s not like that.”
Max turns off his lights as the truck pulls into the driveway. “I don’t care how it is. Next time you find yourself roaming the streets, I won’t be there to pick you up.”
“I don’t believe I asked you to.”
“And we don’t need you influencing Erin to make bad decisions.”
“Me? Me influencing Erin? She all but shoved me out her bedroom window tonight. And notice she chose not to leave the party.”
His frown deepens.
“You can’t honestly tell me that was her first walk on the wild side.”
“No.” He runs a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I. . .I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” He considers this for a moment before snapping his eyes back to me. “But you’re not helping.”
“I—”
“And if it happens again, I’ll be letting Sean and Nora know.” He leans over, his arm brushing mine as he shoves opens my door. “And I’ll make sure they send you home. Where you belong.”
My eyes blazing, I jump out.
“How am I supposed to get back in that house?”
A wicked smile curves his lips as he stares toward the second floor. “Same way you got out. That trellis is old though. I’d say a prayer with every step.”
He slams the door before I can. Leaving me standing there as he drives away.
My hands clenched at my sides.
And more alone than ever.
****************
The character of Max has stuck with me since then, and I feel certain he will return, though he already has a different name. We’ll see if he finds himself in a story soon.
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The Semester is Trying To Kill Me
I just wrote a marathon post about my crazy night and the blog ate it.
Forty minutes of typing for naught.
Let me sum up.
I found the caffeine.
I lost my sanity.
I lost a cat.
I found a raccoon.
I lost a student’s project.
I took two flash lights to my backyard and searched near the woods.
I mentioned some trains, tunnels, and getting ran over.
Found the cat. Not in the woods.
Found the student’s project. Also not in the woods.
Or even in my town.
All of these things took many hours.
The end of the semester hates me.
I drank too much tea.
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Castle Finale: The Romance Score Card
Raise your hand if you watch Castle?
All of us.
Good.
I gotta vent. If you haven’t watched the finale, there are spoilers below, and you need to not read further. (But hurry up and watch it and come back.)
And warning, some of this is not appropriate for all eyes. If you’re super young, you might wanna skip this one. I’m about to talk about sexy times.
First let me say, I loved the episode. I watched it twice, watched the ending three times.
But I got issues with the show. It’s all goes back to writing romance. I’ve written eight romance novels, and there are a few must-haves for me every time. I’m about to bore you with them in regard to Castle.
1. Castle is not a man. OR rarely is a man.
Real life and fiction are two different worlds. In the fiction world, the man needs to be alpha. I tried to find a good definition or link for you, but came up with nothing except some info on mating rituals of lions. The alpha male is confident, cocky, smart, has some degree of arrogance. He’s a protector, and beneath it all, he is old-fashioned. Think Rhett Butler, Cary Grant in Charade, Whats His Name in Sweet Home Alabama, Ryan Reynolds in Proposal. Granted, there’s always a chink in their armor, in their arrogant act, but they are not metro-sensitive men.
When Castle first started, Richard Castle was a national celebrity. He was arrogant, obnoxious. A bit too much. But the fun of that was we got to see it peeled back, and we began to see the real him. But now that arrogance is completely gone. Castle is a funny character, and that’s vital. But too often the funny steps into buffoonery. Too often he’s this wimpy guy who’s lovable, and the fun nerd side has completely taken over. There is no rock star in him anymore. And that’s a problem.We need that nerd side, but you can’t be full time nerd man and be alpha. The alpha must dominate. The balance is off.
Because now Beckett is the man in the relationship.
I’m okay with the female being tough. I think every female I’ve ever written has been kinda tough. They don’t carry Marlboro’s rolled in their sleeve or have a big chain running from their pocket to their wallet. But they are not “let me talk about my feelings and cry a lot” girls/ladies. (Of course they also do not wear mullets like Beckett, season one.) But they are independent, make their own destiny, go for the strong/smart boys. Beckett absolutely needs to be a super-strong lady. But because she is so tough, we need to see more strength from Castle. He’s the girl in this duo, and it’s not working. Javier…now that’s an alpha male. He never leaves that role except when it’s right. (Like the wedding with Lainey after they split.)
In the finale, Castle has two alpha male moments. One is when he raises his voice to Beckett for the first time (maybe) ever, telling her that he’s more than a partner and she needs to back off the case or she’ll die. He’s ticked. That’s a man. Specifically, that’s a romantic lead. (In real life, if your fellow is yelling at you a bunch, you should probably consult a professional…) But Beckett is choosing death here (again), and he FINALLY mans up and gets in her face instead of being whiny. This moment works SO well because there’s fire and passion. We don’t ever get to see that with them.
The second time is in the very end when Castle finally takes charge of The Kiss, but I’ll spare you the description.
If you’re writing a love scene, you gotta slow it down, even if things are moving at a fast speed physically. There are few things better in writing (or theater or movies) than the pause.
When Castle said he loved her, he just raced through that. If it’s a big statement, you gotta put a pause in there. Just rushing through that was not alpha. It was junior high girly. That needed some volume too. It needs to be set apart. Give it time to reverberate.
Kate’s epiphany was too quick. Granted, she hasn’t said “I love you,” and I like that. I hope it’s a future complication.
When Kate comes back at the end for the big smack down, she just attacks him. Hey, girl, carpe smoochage. But Beckett just stands there and…does nothing.
To me, the alpha thing to do here is to take control of the situation. I would’ve had Castle put his hands on her (he wasn’t touching her), and pull her away. They needed that eye to eye moment, where we know what they’re thinking, but they’re just now mentally transferring that. Throw in some Grey’s Anatomy indy music we’ll be searching for on iTunes the next day. Then he should’ve kissed her. Be the man here.
This “Kate awkwardly throws self at Castle while he stands there not sure what to do with his hands” happens twice in a row. The best part there was when she apologized repeatedly. Nice moment. It finally got real and high stakes. She’s not an apologizer. Though I didn’t buy that she would give it all up (the case) for him just like that.
The build-up. There wasn’t any. We’ve heard them talk to others a bit this year about being into each other, but that’s not a build-up. It’s conversation.
In this last episode the camera shots were really working to show you their glances. Where was this all year?
The hand holding moment–that was good, but we should’ve seen that sooner.
I don’t like that they skipped all the bases at the end and went straight to home plate.
And it showed her bullet wound, but did he run his hand over it? The lighting was SO weird, so maybe he did. But he should’ve. That would’ve been sweet and some great symbolism.
Where was I? Oh, yes, skipping to home base.
We got cheated out of a lot of bases there. It didn’t feel authentic. Yeah, there’s been a four year build-up, but you gotta put in those “almost” moments in your book, movie, Emmy winning TV show, whatever. You begin to give your readers/your couple what they want, then interrupt it. An accidental (or was it?) touch. A kiss that’s interrupted. A series of flirty moments. An angry, tense conversation that sparks. Remember the episode where they have to kiss in an ally to throw off a crook? THAT was build up. You take the reader/couple ALMOST there, then pull the rug out from under them. So they’re making out–fine. Then the ex knocks on the door. Or something explodes. We needed a handful of these moments. Kudos to the “we can’t control this, wildfire” ending. I’m not disagreeing with that in itself–we just needed a build-up. A many-times-frustrated build-up.
Kate would’ve gone to Castle’s daughter’s graduation.
There was a weird editing glitch in the final love scene. Castle is here one second, then there the next.
Still.
I loved the episode. I thought it was some great writing plot-wise. The dialogue could’ve been stronger and more believable, but the plot worked well.
The overlapping of Alexis’s speech with things that happened in the past to things happening in the head of Beckett and Castle to what was coming…that was some freaking writing brilliance.
And I haven’t stopped thinking about the episode, so that’s a sign it really worked. Or a sign that I’m avoiding the stack of essays I’m supposed to grade.
I worry about the show’s future though. In a fictional romance, it’s not the Happily Ever After we enjoy the most, but the chase. The flirty, fun, swoony journey getting there. That’s why the HEA comes at the very end. I can’t think of any shows that have made it too long after their kept-apart-duo were no longer kept apart.
So to review, if you write romance, here are some quick tips:
1. Alpha male, even in YA. Don’t emasculate your hero.
2.Breadcrumbs dropped to get to the romantic payoff.
3. Lots of road blocks in the way. Frustrate the couple, frustrate your readers.
4. Dialogue that sizzles, either with flirtation, with a significance that bonds, or with frustration/healthy anger.
5. Make significant moments set apart. Don’t rush them, even if it’s a frenzied scene. Behold the well-timed pause.
6. Make good use of sensory details.
7. Don’t give your heroine a mullet.
I think that about sums it up.
It will be interesting to see where they the show now.
As for me, I’m through talking about romance. I have to return to the real world and grade a million essays.
And there’s nothing sexy about that.
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The Avengers
Congrats to Kathy Beal, winner of Cara Putman’s A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island. Kathy, go to my contact page and email me your snail mail addy please.
So I saw The Avengers. It’s good. I didn’t love it, but I liked it. I really like comic book movies. And there are so many super stars in this movie. There’s the dad from 90210. And the little sister from Growing Pains. Cobie Smulders from How I Met Your Mother. I kept expecting Barney to walk through.
I think the movie could’ve been a little better though. Like Thor needs a hair cut. And Hulk needs some speech therapy. And maybe a puppy. He’s very angry inside.
And how do Banner’s pants fit Hulk? That makes no sense. What kind of Lycra does Bruce have in those Dockers?
I came back to school Monday, and I told my kids I saw the movie. My girls asked, “Was Captain America cute?”
“Um…no?”
“How can you not just stare at him?”
“Because he has weird hair.”
But my ninth grade girls are certain they’d like Chris Evans to Captain their Americas.
And why does everyone in super hero movies wear such tight clothes? Almost every person was just a centimeter away from Total Camel Toe. How can you fight crime when you can’t even wear underwear? That’s not right. Your Hanes should always be invited to the party. Can heroes really focus on world saving when they’re having to take shallow breaths lest their guts bust a seam? And why do so many wear onesies? Who does that? And where do you buy those things? “I need a spandex onesie. Some stars. Some stripes. Some built-in pecs.”
You know who would make a good super hero?
Phil Dunphy.
He would wear underwear.
Did you see The Avengers? Like? Dislike?
Who do you think would make a good super hero?
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Cara Putman+Mackinac Island+Book Giveaway
Happy Monday to you. I have all my advice giving out of my system, so let us move on to gentler topics.
Today I’m happy to have friend and wonder-woman Cara C. Putman on the blog. Cara is a wife, mom, ACFW board member, attorney, professor, author, blogger, and she makes Martha Stewart look lazy. She’s also one of the most positive, encouraging people I know.
Cara has a new book out, A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island. Stay tuned til the end of the post where I’ll give you instructions on how to win a copy. Here is the back cover copy of the novel:
Join attorney Alanna Stone as she returns home despite her determination to never set foot on Mackinac Island again. Once again in close proximity to Jonathan Covington, her first love, she vows to protect her privacy and her heart from the man who still makes her pulse race. But when her worst fears are realized and history repeats itself—landing her in the midst of a murder investigation—Jonathan may be her only hope. Will they be able to lay aside the past and let God heal their hearts, or will reconciliation come too late?
J: I have never been to Mackinac Island, though I’ve heard wonderful things about it. I’m sure your book is like a mini-vacation there. Tell us about the setting and why you chose it.
C: Mackinac Island transports visitors back to a time that is slower-paced. Travel is by horse drawn carriage (what’s more romantic?!), bike (a bike for 2 sounds pretty romantic to me!), or by foot (stroll quaint streets? Sign me up!) In my mind Mackinac is a perfect place to escape for a long weekend or second honeymoon, so it became a great setting for a novel.
J: Sounds very quaint indeed. So your main character, Alanna Stone, is an attorney, as are you. Tell us what you like about this character. How are you different?
C: She’s working the big cases, and I’m working estate planning and adoptions. I love litigation, but it’s just not a good fit at this stage of my life. I can’t go to court at the whim of a judge and homeschool my kids. So I live trials vicariously through my characters like Alanna.
J: This novel is a love story involving old flames. I LOVE that plot–where the hero and heroine were once a couple long ago, it didn’t end well, and years later are thrown together again. How does this play out in the book?
C: In Mackinac Island, they had a high school love that both thought would carry them into the future. Then a tragedy happens, and Alanna runs. When she’s forced to come back, she moves into her childhood home–next door to Jonathan. This forces them to confront their mistakes. The question is whether their old love will ignite a new flame.
J: …whether an old love will ignite a new flame. That could totally be a Carrie Underwood song.
The book deals with the theme of escaping the past. Who can’t relate to that to some degree?
C: Alanna has avoided the island for 11 years because of the fall-out of the past. Avoidance was her path to escape the pain. Now she’s been forced home, and is faced with the choice of running…again…or seeking the truth. Like many of us, she thought running would spare her the pain. Instead, it just let it fester. Now she has to chose whether to let the truth set her free–a choice many of us face at least once in our lives.
J: Imagine that A Wedding Transpires on Mackinac Island is a movie. Who would you cast?
C: Alanna Stone would be played by Reese Witherspoon. Jonathan Covington, her old flame, would be played by Josh Lucas. I love their look and chemistry in Sweet Home Alabama.
J: Oh, gosh, I love that movie. I could watch it again and again.
Sometimes being an author can one big sacrifice. Did you have to travel to Mackinac Island for research?
C: I did. I’d been there once about three years before the idea came to me. Then we returned while the story was really a germ of an idea. So while my husband and kids did fun things like visit Fort Mackinac, I was interviewing the chief of police to see what would happen if someone was murdered on the island.
J: Probably not every day they get tourists asking those kinds of questions. Cara, you’re also doing some serious traveling this summer.
C: We’ve got the opportunity to take a once-in-a-lifetime trip this summer. It means seven weeks of family togetherness. Pray for us!
But this trip is a kiss from heaven–and a reminder that God delights in giving His kids good gifts. It’s been a heart-dream to do something like this with our kids, but I thought it was an impossibility. I can sense God smiling as I type that. He is so good!
J: You are an awesome contemporary writer, but I think historicals, specifically the WWII era, is where your heart is at. What’s the draw of that era for you?
C: It’s the romance of a time in our country where men honored women, women were stepping into new roles, and the country had pulled together in a way that affected every one. There was a clear black and white. And a generation gave it their all to fight for right. I just adore that time and those people who still insist they didn’t do anything special. Seventy years later, history says something different.
J: I love that as well. There will never be another generation like that. Sadly.
So what’s next for you?
C: I’ve got some ideas for more WWII stories, stories I can’t wait to tell. I’m also working on new ideas. It’s hard to go anywhere and not generate potential ideas. With three books releasing between January and May of this year, I’m also very busy spreading the word about my books.
Okay, speed round. This is where I stop being all friendly and ask the tough, hard-hitting questions your readers need to know.
1. Favorite ice cream?
French Vanilla
2. Favorite song this week?
“Alive” by Natalie Grant
3. Dream vacation?
Couple of week to tour Europe with no set itinerary
4. Your last meal would be…?
Eggplant Parmesan
5. (Let the record show she picked a VEGETABLE for her last meal) Moving on.
An object in your home that represents you?
My library of books
6. Your sister would say you are:
Nuts
7. Your husband would say you are:
An overachiever
8. Your best friend would say you are:
Committed and passionate
9. If you could travel back in time (and not to WWII), where would that be?
No fair taking out WWII! I would travel back to Queen Victoria’s time. I’d love to talk to her.
10. Favorite movie?
Hard to pick one, but You’ve Got Mail would top the list.
11. Annoying habit?
Inability to say no.
12. Now that’s a job interview answer! Well done. (Yet also true.)
Favorite TV show?
Castle, though Missing is a close second.
13. If you weren’t a writer, lawyer, or teacher, you would be:
A politician. I’ve always had a problem with small dreams. LOL!
Thanks for stopping by, Cara! You can find this fab author at her WEBSITE.
Cara is giving away a copy of A Wedding Transpires in Mackinac Island.
Leave a comment on today’s post which answers the question: If YOU could travel back in time, where would you go and why.
You have until Sunday night at some vague time in the p.m.
Winner announced Monday, May 7th.
Can’t wait to read your answers!
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