Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short stories. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Where Do You Get Creative Inspiration?

At every book signing, one of the questions I can always count on being asked is: "Where do you get the idea for your books?".
My books, much to my publisher's chagrin, do not follow the current popular trends. If they did, I would no doubt be a more successful author. Instead, I follow my heart. My characters all have a basis in reality. Some are even modeled after friends (names have been changed to protect the innocent, she says with a smile and a wink).

I also find inspiration for characters and situations in the news. The short story that recently ran on my website was about a man who worked on oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. Currently, I am writing a story about a soldier on leave in Paris.

Inspiration can come from anywhere, if you let it. Anything from a song to a movie to the weather can be the spark for a story. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein during a cold and dreary summer in Switzerland. Had the weather been better, would we have had one of the greatest monster in literature?

Imagination is also a contributor to creative inspiration. Without imagination, Jules Verne would not have pioneered the science fiction genre, and without science fiction would man have dreamed of going into space or exploring the oceans?

Over the years, there has been a mellowing toward certain characters as well. Anne Rice took the feared vampire and turned him into a tragic romantic figure. Stephanie Meyers took it a step further and made her character Edward Cullen a sex symbol.

So, my fellow writers, think for a moment. Where do you get the inspiration for your books? Share your thoughts here; inquiring minds want to know.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Taps - A Love Story

PART ONE

Ahh, Paris. The City of Lights. The City of Love. Who would not love to be in Paris in the spring?

Me, that's who.

Not a person for sightseeing, Brooke dragged herself out of bed. She hated being stuck somewhere over a weekend. She preferred to fly in, get her work done, and then fly home again, all within one week. Her time was too valuable to spend it doing nothing.

After lingering as long as she could over breakfast in the hotel dining room, she returned to her room to check her emails. Nothing was pressing. Shutting down the computer, she stood in front of the window and tried to decide what she would do for the rest of the day. Whatever it was, it had to be away from the hotel. It was awkward to be around when housekeeping came to clean the room so she wanted to be out before they came.

The lobby seemed a good place to read the newspaper. That would kill at least an hour. Brooke had just settled herself into the deep, plush chair when a crowd of people suddenly descended upon her quiet corner. They had come to see the paintings hanging in the lobby as part of an exhibit. The crowd moved from canvas to canvas while the artist described each work in detail.

Annoyed by the intrusion, she picked herself up and walked outside. Even though it was still rather early, the sidewalks were already crowded with tourists heading off to see the sights. She sighed. There had to be somewhere she could go to have some time alone to read her newspaper and contemplate what to do for the rest of the day.

With no destination in mind, Brooke began walking. She paused now and again at a shop window, but nothing held her interest for long enough to go inside. Before long, she found herself in one of the many parks in the city. Although it was crowded, this seemed a perfect place to spend some quiet time.

Walking along the manicured path, she saw families and couples on the benches and the expanse of fresh-mowed grass. Everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company. No one was paying attention to her. Why should they? She was just a lone woman in a foreign country.

Sighing, she plopped herself down on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. Paris was a city filled with so many things to do and to see, none of which appealed to her. Why did this business trip have to be so long? How was she ever going to get through the next two days?

"Pardon, mademoiselle," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts a moment later.

Using her hand to shade her eyes from the sun, Brooke looked up and saw the man belonging to the voice. He was tall, with the trim but muscular body of someone who worked out regularly. What impressed her most, though, was his incredibly perfect posture. She had never seen anyone stand so straight and tall.

"Yes?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

A smile softened his square jaw. "You're an American. From the Midwest, if I had to guess."

Brooke arched a brow. Although she was originally from Kansas, she had lived in the D.C. area for the last fifteen years. Hardly anyone made mention of her accent anymore. This man was either a master of linguistics or he was from the same part of the country where she was born.

As if reading her mind, he went on, "I'm from Oklahoma myself, and I can always tell a neighbor when I hear one."

He then gestured to the ground next to her and asked if he could join her. It was hard not to like his manners and easy charm so Brooke gave a noncommittal shrug. She welcomed the company but did not want to give the wrong impression by appearing overly eager.

"I'm Christian Anders," he said as he sat down a respectable distance from her. "But everyone just calls me Chris."

Without the sun glaring in her eyes, she could now see his face better. He had very angular features, as if chiseled from stone, and a nose that had seen several breaks over the years. His light brown hair was short, almost a crewcut, and was touched with grey at the temples. In sharp contrast to all that cragginess, he had warm hazel eyes that twinkled with mirth, as if he had a great joke he could not wait to share, and a ready smile.

"Brooke Stewart," she replied.

He took her hand and shook it warmly. As he did, he let his eyes flicked over her and Chris very much liked what he saw. It was clear that Brooke had a brain behind her intense green eyes. As for the rest of her, well, she was softly rounded in all the right places. It was those lush curves that caught his attention the moment she came into the park.

By the time they talked about Paris and the unseasonably warm weather for so early in the year, they began to feel more at ease with each other. The conversation quickly moved on to topics that were more personal. Brooke told him about her job at a major international bank, about the work that had brought her here, and how she would be in Paris for another week.

His eyes lit up. "It's a stroke of fate that we ran into each other today. I'm on leave until Friday and I was wondering what I was going to do in Paris all by myself."

She arched an eyebrow. "On leave? You're in the military?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm in the Marine Corps," he replied proudly. Chris saw the look of doubt as her eyes moved over his civilian attire and added, "There are times and places when the military does not want not advertise the presence of servicemen on leave."

Her mind flashed to the recent news report about five sailors viciously attacked in a South American bar. She never would have guessed Paris to be a problem city for Americans, but she guessed that the military knew how best to guard its servicemen.

Brooke's look of doubt softened into a smile. So he was a Marine. Well that certainly explained his posture and self-confidence, not to mention his well-toned physique. She was surprised that she had not guessed it right away.

As he continued to speak, she learned that Chris was a Captain and currently stationed in Baghdad. This was his first leave in fourteen months, having just completed his second tour of duty in Iraq. It was amazing to hear him speak so matter-of-factly about these places. Dangerous places that figured so prominently in the nightly news.

They continued to talk and to laugh about all the things they had in common. Before either of them noticed, the afternoon sunlight started to fade with the approaching sunset and lights began to wink on around the city. When the Eiffel Tower lit up, Brooke sighed dreamily. She had seen it many times before but the sight of the twinkling lights soaring to meet the stars never failed to send shivers up her spine.

Watching her face in the last rays of sunlight, Chris felt a stirring in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was the sound of his heart beating. Beating as it had not beat for a very long time. Yearning for a companionship he had not shared in a very long time. It took all of his self-control not to sweep her into his arms and to kiss her until they were both drunk with passion.

He would kiss her, though, that was sure. But not now. Not until he was certain she would welcome it. No matter how much he wanted her, he would not force himself on her the way he would have done in his youth. He had learned the hard way of the price there was to pay for such impulses.

Pushing thoughts of his past aside, he concentrated on the present and the woman next to him. He wanted to spend more time with her, as much time as he thought necessary while waiting for the right time to steal that kiss. Clearing his throat, he asked if she would like to join him for dinner.

It did not take but an instant for her to consider the invitation. Having dinner with this charming man was far preferable to her original plan for room service in front of the television. Smiling her best smile, she nodded and said, "I'd like that a lot."

Pleased with the response, even though he already knew she would say yes, he got to his feet and held out his hand to help her rise. Brooke felt her face pink. She was hard pressed to recall such gentlemanly manners from anyone she had dated. Ever. Fighting the urge to giggle, she slipped her hand into his.

The maneuver of standing up brought their bodies close, almost touching. For a split second, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Looking up, she saw the look behind his level gaze. It was a look that said he hoped they could be more than just friends. She tensed.

Vacation romances were never meant to last and only ended in hurt, and becoming romantically involved with someone while on a business trip was even worse. At times like this, when she felt the situation heading in a direction she did not want it to go, she would pull away, make an excuse to break their dinner date, and push the incident and the person out of her mind.

This time was different. This time, she did not pull away. She had no idea why, but she found herself eager to pursue a relationship with this man and see where it led. This time, she relaxed and savored the moment of their closeness.

His heart sank when he felt her tense. Once again he had been too forward, too eager to get to know a woman. Would he never learn his lesson? Just as an apology started to form on the tip of his tongue, he saw the change in her expression and demeanor. His heart soared. Fate brought him to this park so he could meet this woman. A woman he was looking forward to getting to know much better over the next week.

(copyright 2011 Judith McGuinness)

Thursday, July 9, 2009

From Diary to Publication

Okay, you can throw some things away especially if they get smelly; but I’m thinking about all those journals and diaries you kept as a kid. Come on, I’m sure there are a few people out there who still have a locked diary containing an entry of that first kiss. Perhaps, many of you keep a journal currently. Hello, I'm Judith McGuinness, I'm a romance author and I keep a journal. I started keeping a diary way back in third grade. Yes, I still have it too. As I grew older, my mom could not understand the time I spent writing in the marble notebook that I kept hidden under my pillow. If I had a dime for every time she said, “Why are you wasting your time …” I’d be rich. Anyways, I continued to write. I would write poetry, short stories, paste pictures or other’s works I found inspiring into my notebooks. I’d even write down the lyrics of songs. Some ideas were written on paper bags or napkins and I would later rewrite it. I also enjoyed writing love stories. In high school, my friends would ask me to write a little romantic tale of them with their latest squeeze. Funny, it got to the point where even guys were coming up to me and asking me to write down their exploits. (Maybe that’s how I learned to write erotica?) In 1989, my darling hubby (boyfriend at the time) happened upon me writing one day while we were vacationing in Italy. As he read my interpretation of the past few days, including the steamy midnight activities, I expected him to start laughing at any moment; I never took him to be the mushy, romantic type of man. He didn’t. In fact, he thought it was rather good. “Not Jane Austen, but a real page-turner,” I think were his exact words. Inspired by this review, I began writing more and more short stories. As each new idea popped into my head, I jotted the thought onto paper. There were times, over the next ten years, when I had four or five stories in various stages of completion. I would write them in longhand on the train on the way to work, on planes when my work took me far from home. Eventually, they were painstakingly transcribed onto my computer. Then, in 2005, I was on disability for an extended period. I spent a lot of time reading my stories, adding to them, reworking some of the plots. As I worked on one, a character who had been near and dear to my heart for many years, I began to wonder if it could be published. Having a book published had always been a dream of mine, but none of my stories had ever been complete enough. Perhaps it was time to complete one. By 2006, I had the 122,283-word manuscript for the story of my favorite character, “Macy”. At the end of writing this slightly paranormal romance, I knew that some of the secondary characters deserved to have his own story; thus the birth of a miniseries. iUniverse Publishing offered me a contract in 2007 and Macy was released later that year. Before the Applause is scheduled for release in 2010, and If I Should Love Again in 2012. My advice to you … never throw a diary or journal away; you just never know where it might take you. Now for a little treat. Leave a comment and I will send you the complete short story that has been running on my website.