When the hot new handyman seems interested in the cool, sophisticated executive, what will the office gossips say?
Irresistible You by Simona Taylor is live online!
I wouldn’t be able to resist him, either!
Jenessa’s Secret Santa has a crush. That’s the only explanation. Why else would he be sending her such naughty, lavish presents? A book of sexy poems that leaves her squirming in her seat. Scented body oil that glides along her skin like a lover’s touch. Her favorite lipstick in a shade that makes it look like she’s begging for a kiss.
Yep. Santa has her attention, all right.
As it turns out, Santa Baby is not who she expected. It’s none other than Mitchell, the new head of maintenance. Tall, hot and hazel-eyed, he’s not afraid to let her know he’s interested. He also knows how to rock a pair of jeans!
Jenessa’s intrigued, and more than a little turned on. A short, passionate office fling with this dreamy-eyed single dad? Could be fun—but potentially fatal to her career. After all, she’s a high-powered executive with an eye on the VP’s chair, and he’s … a glorified handyman. Opposites attract, but what would the office gossips say?
(Note:Irresistible You was originally published as The Irresistible Mr. Cooper in 2020.)
So, recently, I was dealt a dose of humility, forced to choke on a slice of humble pie. I’ve been doing well in terms of clients during lockdown; maybe people have been moved to write. A couple of them have given me multi-book contracts for editing, and I have been loving every minute of it.
Many of my clients have been enthusiastic, very happy with
my work, even offering me bonuses and upping our agreed prices.
Does that feel good?
Why, yes, yes it does.
But it’s also terrifyingly seductive, leading you to a place
where you begin to think you are infallible. Many clients had suffered such
terrible edits in the past that they were full of praise, and I began to eat it
up. I began to think I was Head Editor In Charge.
And that’s how I fell down and scraped my knees.
I was in the midst of a very long novel, when I noticed that
the timeline didn’t add up. Several events were out of line, and simply didn’t
sync. True, most readers would have read merrily along, but for me, it nagged
like a toothache.
I notified my client. I began to fix it. I spent two days
with a calendar, changing dates, shifting whole scenes around to make the
timeline fit. When I was done, I was mighty pleased with myself. Not many
editors would have been that sharp-eyed, after all. I was pretty damn good at
my job and he was damn lucky to have me!
Except . . . the
client was upset. And that is putting it mildly. “It’s my book,” he said. “I
know what you did is technically correct, but I liked it the way it was before!
It is MY BOOK!”
And I felt so hurt, ashamed, and embarrassed. I apologised, begged
for forgiveness, and returned everything the way it was.
I remembered all the shitty edits I’ve received from my publishers in the past, the slash and burn of my carefully crafted words, leaving me bristling with anger or broken in tears. I heard the echoes of my own voice, my own pain: “It is MY BOOK! How dare they?”
I have become the very thing I had vowed to destroy.
So down a peg or two I’ve slid. I’ve done everything I can
to make amends to my client, and hope he will forgive me. I’m glad for the
timely lesson, and won’t be forgetting it soon. I’m a good writer, yes. A damn
good editor, yes.
But I will never be great until I remember, every time I put
hands to keyboard, that this isn’t about me. It’s not about how much I know or
how adept I am with a semi-colon. It is and always will be about the client,
the writer, and THEIR BOOK.
They must always come first. You know, before my ego.
Let’s talk
about money, even though it’s objectively less appropriate than talking about
sex. Money’s cool. I wouldn’t mind having some. I used to make a reasonable,
liveable amount, actually, and then, goddammit, I quit to become a full-time
writer/editor/origami enthusiast.
Now here I
am at fifty-cough, calling up clients with my sweetest cheque-chasing
voice once every couple of weeks, rolling over my credit card balance with the deftness
of a plate-spinner at the circus, and hoarding loyalty points like rare simoleons.
I recently
joined a couple of those freelance aggregate sites, where freelancers and
potential clients do a tango as delicate as anything on Ok Cupid, where you
coyly flash your diploma, and maybe a book cover or two, in hopes of catching
their eye. And then they offer you US$2 each to write them a passel of 500-word
articles. No, seriously, someone did. I didn’t even bother to give them a piece
of my mind; I need it to trawl for work.
So my whine for
today is, why are we writers paid so badly, especially as compared to
professionals of equal intelligence, education, and general know-stuffedness?
Why would clients sign away their third-born child to pay legal fees but try to
beat down my hourly rate because I stopped in the middle of it for coffee?
The chances
of making a good living (whatever that means to you) writing are despairingly low.
And the chances of making a great, Stephen-King-pays-all-his-town’s-taxes level
living? One in several octopusillion.
Look, I don’t
need a vast estate surrounded by a gargoyle-topped iron gate. I don’t need to
be flying off to Paris on weekends . . . okay, really, I’d kill to fly off to
Paris for the weekend. But do ya get what I’m saying? Like Jabberjaw, I just
want a little respect.
Even though 2.2 million new books are published every year. Even though people still think, “It won’t take long, so I don’t have to pay much.” Even though most people seem to think that a II in CXC English qualifies them to pen the world’s next breakthrough masterpiece, so why pay me to do it?
All I can say is, writer-folks, we need to stay strong. We need to remember that all authors, including the A list, have to suck up rejection at some point and persist. We need to know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. Not to leap at an offer that’s clearly wrong for us just to make a buck. And we need to stand together. If a job doesn’t suit me, I’ll give the client your name; I expect you to do the same for me. If I hear a great tip, or have a wonderful idea, I’m going to share it with you. That’s how our community gets stronger.
And I sure
as hot hairy hell ain’t taking no steenking job for $2. The nerve of some
people!
Thoughts? Any experiences you’d like to share? (Writing or not?)
We writers
can be pretty headstrong. We’re adamant about our work, and are always prepared
to defend it, right down to the last punctuation mark. I remember annoying the
hell out of my editor at Kensington when, pissed off at what I thought was a
crappy edit, I flew into a fit of high dudgeon, stetted about fifty of the line
editor’s changes, and Fed Exed about 30% of my novel back. Just weeks before
printing.
Nobody was to tell me how to write my
book!
My editor
was not amused. “I got your many changes,” she told me dryly thereafter.
I felt a bit abashed then, and as I became more experienced, I realised I was
damn lucky she didn’t fire me on the spot. I was damn rude and out of line. Not
to mention arrogant, stubborn, and ign’ant.
Now that the metaphorical shoe is on the other figurative foot, and I find myself in the editor’s chair, I encounter writers who, kill them dread, refuse to listen to reason. It’s their book, I don’t know anything, and they’re going to do it their way.
Well, sure.
It is your book, after all. You don’t have to change a damn thing. You
don’t have to listen to a word I say—as long as you still pay me, sis.
But consider
this: Your editor is someone who has been through the wringer herself, who has
been there, who has had her work praised and scorned, and who has survived.
She’s grey of hair (well, except for the Revlon) and long of tooth. Maybe she
knows what she’s talking about.
So I know
that being told that you need to fix your story—or, in extreme cases, that it
sucks and you need to start over—can sting. It can hurt like a mofo, like
someone telling you your baby’s ugly. And you love the hairy little bugger.
But if you
love it so much, why not do all you can to make it the best it can be? Instead
of seeing your editor’s comments as proof that you’re a terrible person, a bad
writer, and a sub-par human being who deserves to be dragged into the orca pool
at Sea World, why not try to see it her way? Why not have another go, this
time, on her terms?
After all,
our primary interest is to make your story better. And we can help you do it,
if only you and your ego can get out of your own way.
Any bad editor stories? Share them
here. (Good ones, too.)
Like everyone else, I’ve been fanged by the evil writers’ block vampire, finding myself curled up on the floor, ash-pale, dried-out and wondering what the hell happened and why I can’t produce a word.
But we
writers are strong, creative, and ambitious. We’re heroes in our own stories,
and whenever we’re faced with adversity, we suck it up and keep on going.
Years ago I
read something that forever changed the way I looked at writers’ b-word. No
idea who said it or even where I read it, but I’ll never forget. It went like
this: “Writers are empty, not blocked.”
In other words, when we find ourselves out of ideas, it’s not that there’s a giant obstacle inside us, a wall erected somewhere in our cerebellum standing between us and a million-dollar, best-selling idea. Often, it’s that we’ve allowed ourselves to become barren, using up our creative stores without replenishing them.
So how do we
fill ourselves up again?
Travel
Ideally, to
Paris, Khartoum, or the Gobi Desert, but if your bank balance thinks that’s
hilarious, maybe take a drive to another town, or out into the country. Park up
and take a stroll. See new people (better yet, talk to them), taste new food,
change your perspective.
Try a
different genre
Lemme tell
ya, I’m all burned out with romance, and don’t see myself writing another soon.
Which is why I’m so gung-ho about memoirs these days. I’m learning a new skill and
freshening up my jaded brain cells.
Read, read,
read
Maybe you’re
just bored. Maybe you spend so much time writing that you’ve forgotten that
writers are readers at heart. Trying a new author or going back to your
favourite might be just the tonic you need. (Notice I didn’t say “plagiarise,
plagiarise, plagiarise”. Don’t let what you read penetrate so deeply that it
influences what you write. There be dragons.)
Look inside
yourself
Are you really not finding anything to write about or are you sabotaging yourself? Is there something that scares you, something you’re afraid would happen if you did finish your project? Success? Failure? Self-exposure? Bad reviews? The subconscious mind is a hell of a thing. Maybe you have something to sort out before you’re at peace with yourself enough to slam that keyboard once again?
Pack it in
At least temporarily. Go to your favourite pastry shop and challenge yourself to see how many calories you can consume in half an hour. Work out. See a movie. Have sex (I wish, ha.) Smoke a joint. (I can say that now that it’s been decriminalised in Trinidad. Yay!) (Also please note that I have never had a spliff in my life. Boo.) Go buy some sexy underwear; I find purple lace works best for me. Or a funny T shirt emblazoned with some pithy observation; the snarkier the better. Draw a mustache on the dog. Do anything that distracts you from the pickle you’re in.
Like a wary
butterfly, inspiration will land on you if you stop trying to hard to catch it.
Good luck, amigos.
Did any
of these work for you? Let me know in the comments!
Did anyone
take part in NaNoWriMo? That’s National Novel Writing Month, always held in
November. The challenge is to write the first draft of a 50,000-word novel in
30 days. Sceptical? Thousands have done it. Many have gone on to get published.
But those of us writers who don’t have a giant S printed on our clingy spandex chests find it hard to get 50 pages done in a month, much less 50,000 words! We have jobs, studies, kids, spouses, sick family members, elderly parents, pets, fitness and a hundred million other things crowding our already cluttered lives. How do we do all this and still shove our writing project in edgways? Are we crazy?
Now that I write and edit full time, it’s a lot easier, as it’s a clear case of work or starve. But when I was in corporate life, and when the kids were younger, it was a challenge. I figured out a couple of tricks, and I’ll share them with you — on the condition that you’ll share yours with me.
Eat
one-handed
For years I
ate at my desk at work, stuffing my face with one hand while the other tapped
out my story. I learned fast which foods are easiest to eat while working, like
sandwiches, pizza, or roti, and which need to be avoided, like steak or
spaghetti, which require concentration and dexterity (and two hands) if you
plan to avoid disaster.
Even if I
scarfed down my lunch (trying not to choke), I could still cram maybe 30
minutes of writing time in there. Doesn’t sound like much, but it adds up. (And
this may be TMI, but I also learned to breastfeed one-handed for the same
reason.)
Dictate to
yourself
If you’re
busy doing something else (housework, driving, that sort of stuff), try dictating
your thoughts into a recorder or phone. (Make sure your phone is hands free if
you’re driving, please!) I personally don’t use this method as I actually type
faster than I think, but it’s a great solution for many people.
Just don’t
dictate while walking down the street or while using public transportation,
lest you get carted off for a psychiatric evaluation.
Drop by drop
As the
elders say, “Drop by drop will fill a bucket”. Don’t stress if you can’t find a
nice long couple of hours to write in. Do it one page a day and you’ll have a
largish novel in a year. That’s better than most people who claim they want to
write ever achieve.
Don’t be
nasty to yourself
Many
writers, including seasoned ones, get so bogged down in rewriting and editing a
few pages that they never finish the whole book. The best advice I ever got was
“Finish the book, then edit it.” Soldier onwards to the end before you
look back; it will help you focus on your progress rather than spinning top in
mud, going round and round in circles, but heading nowhere.
Palm off
your responsibilities
If you can afford it, get someone to come in and help with the housework, even if it’s just once a week, to free you up a bit. Palm off the kids on a relative (slip them some money for ice cream and they won’t complain). Lock your door. Scribble “Do Not Disturb” on your forehead. Treat yourself to a beach house weekend. Every now and then you deserve a nice long idyll with your masterpiece. Go for it!
Other good
ideas
Take a coffee/writing break. It’s a cliché, but coffee shops exist for a reason.
Write while someone else is driving.
Fit the task to the time allotted; big jobs for big chunks of time, and so on.
Play deaf. What? You were asking me to get up and fix dinner? Sorry, I didn’t hear you!
Squeeze in an extra hour at the start or end of your day. (Personally, I’m at my best at dawn.)
Be your own dominatrix: reward yourself for being good, and punish yourself for being naughty.
Stop using ‘busy’ as an excuse. We’re all busy. The only person I know who isn’t is my dog. How badly do you want this?
Your book—and your readers-in-waiting—will thank you when you’re done.
Do you have any tips or tricks to add? How easy is it for you to find time to write? Let’s hear your comments.
One of the
most disturbing things I’ve ever heard a publisher say, at a conference several
years ago, was, “We don’t let our black authors write white main characters; we
don’t think they can identify enough to write it credibly.”
Say what?
I sat there,
breathing through my mouth in shock, as she went on to explain that writers who
write about people who weren’t like them, as in a different race, culture, sex,
etc., fall too often into stereotype and caricature. So they simply didn’t
allow it. If you’re black, so were your main characters. If you were white,
well, you get the picture.
Stereotypes
from hell
I was stunned, and 20 years later, I’m still in shock. Sure, we’ve all seen writers and even film directors attempt to convey a character who’s out of their own personal paradigm and fall into the trap of exaggeration, to the point of being insulting. One of my all-time favourite writers is Ed McBain, the author of the wonderful 87th Precinct detective series, which I consume voraciously. But I have to admit that his portrayal of black people, especially in his earlier, less politically correct novels, were cringe-worthy. Lots of “dis” and “dat” and pimp-walking going on.
Okay, fine. Sometimes
the differences between us can be hard to bridge, especially if we don’t take
the time and energy to learn about other people. So does that mean we’re
forever sentenced to write only about people who look, talk and act like we do?
That’s boring!
But how do
you write about people who are different and make them compelling and believable?
Empathy
Empathy makes
all the difference. It is the very human ability to identify with the emotions
and situations of others. It’s the ability to recognise when someone is happy,
scared, upset or anxious, even when we aren’t feeling those emotions ourselves.
And it applies even if that person is a figment of your own or someone else’s imagination.
For me the
key has been to draw parallels between my character’s situation and something
in my life that could elicit similar emotions. I may never have been abused by
a partner, but I can think of times in my life when I’ve felt scared and
betrayed. I’m not currently in possession of a penis, but if I were writing a
sex scene from a male POV I’d focus more on the sensation of touch, scent,
taste, rather than the mechanics of erection and ejaculation (lest I make
myself a laughingstock).
Recognise
your humanity
Realise that
the differences that separate us are smaller than the commonalities that bind
us. We’re all humans; we’ve all been hurt, we’ve all been happy and scared and
angry. The situation your character finds himself in doesn’t have to be
something you’ve experienced for yourself; it simply has to elicit similar
emotions. That’s a great place to move on from.
As always,
show, don’t tell
There’s the temptation to narrate the experiences of a character who’s markedly different from us, mainly because we’re afraid we won’t be able to accurately portray them, but you need to get over that. Immerse yourself into the experience until you feel . . . something. Then write about that something.
Surrender to
the feeling
Let the emotions sweep through you. Feel the prickle of anxiety, the thrill of desire, the cold, clammy weight of dread. What you feel is probably what your character feels. Make use of it. Write it down!
Fiction is a uniting medium. It brings us together across borders and across centuries. Even across galaxies. This is because despite race, gender, nationality, religion, skin tone or whatever the hell else, we are all human. Space aliens, monsters and the undead can experience emotions similar to ours, and that’s what makes them believable. Take advantage of that, and your writing is going to be golden.
As opposed to sitting on your hands and moaning that you’re out of ideas.
As a young writer, I used to think of my mind as some sort of divinely inspired mega-computer that was constantly online, plugged into the cosmos, being bombarded by story ideas, quotes and characters like the International Space Station is bombarded by space debris. I remember boasting gleefully to my agent, Deidre Knight of The Knight Agency, that I’d spent the weekend “downloading stories from my brain.” Talk about self-delusion.
As I spent
more time writing (and as I grew the hell up), I realised that there’s no
cosmic idea-generating alternative universe that has nothing better to do than
throw ideas at me like litterbugs tossing beer bottles onto the highway. I
discovered that finding ideas was hard—and finding good, fresh, useable ones
was damn near impossible.
Y’all know
what I mean. We’ve all been there, bashing our head against our keyboard like
Don Music at his piano. “I’ll never get it! Never!”
But unless
we want our store of ideas to dry up like a frog pond in April, we have to actively
seek them out. Here are a few of the places I look for mine—and you can do the
same.
Newspaper
clippings
Over the
years I’ve collected enough newspaper clippings to line a hundred hamster
cages. I’m always snipping or tearing out articles that strike my fancy, be
they about gruesome murders, weird fetishes, charming towns, or inspiring
people. Maybe I’ll never use 90% of them . . . but think of all the things I
can do with that last 10%!
Keep your
eyes and ears open
Let’s not
call it eavesdropping. Let’s call it “Casual attentive overhearing.” People say
the damnedest things. Gossip. Scandal. Pathos. Wisdom. Hilarity. It’s all
there, falling from the lips of friends and strangers like manna from heaven.
And all ya gotta do is gather them up into your basket.
Did you know my novel, Love Me All The Way, was based on a single overheard sentence? I once heard a friend remark that her mother always said, “Never let a man give you pearls; he will one day make you cry.” I was so excited by the idea that I immediately tried to find out how I could turn it into a story. Who would give who pearls? And why would he make her cry?
Thump
your Bible
Or any other
work of scripture or mythology. The
Bible is my favourite source of story ideas, and many of my novels have
noticeable threads that trace back to well-loved stories. And why not? The book
covers thousands of years of human history and is crammed full of every human
foible and flaw: vanity, lust, murder, rape, incest, infidelity, lies,
scheming, angels, demons, birth, death, hope and redemption. And that’s just
the first couple of pages!
Visit
your inner landscape
That’s just a fancy way of saying “daydream”. If you have a day job, develop the skill of working through your story while looking offally, offally interested in the staff-meeting purgatory you’re stuck in. Take discreet notes in the margins of your notepad. Learn to get up and slide into your fantasy while leaving your body behind, looking poised and attentive at the boardroom table.
Read,
read, read
If I told
you how many people have told me they want to be writers but hate to read, your
earlobe hairs would all fall out from shock. Repeat after me: it is impossible
to be a writer if you are not a reader. And no, I will not be taking
counter-arguments at this time.
Explore
your dreams
No, not the
one with you, Forrest Gump, a motel room and a banana. Most of the time, dreams
are your subconscious taking the piss out of you, but sometimes, the sneaky
little diva throws a few gems your way. When it happens, for God’s sake write
it down. Dream-ideas last for less time than morning dew on a warm car engine.
Doodle,
you doodlebug
Sketches, drawings, charts and vision boards help you see what’s in your head. Once you see it, you can make it grow. And you don’t need to be the next great insert-hot-famous-artist’s-name-here to sketch out your ideas. You’re drawing for you and nobody else. Someone else thinks your WWII rapid-fire artillery canon-whatsit looks like a duck? Their problem, not yours.
Whatever you
do, write your ideas down, no matter how dumb they sound at the time. Maybe the
next time you look at them they’ll still look dumb.
As I said in a recent post, getting a bad review sucks. It can be inaccurate (or not), hurtful, or useless. Although it’s a bit more private, getting a bad critique from a friend or critique partner can suck just as bad. And if you can’t handle it, don’t dish it out.
Here’s how
to avoid giving another writer a bad critique:
Ask
yourself what you’d want if you were in their position.
Respect,
right? Honesty, clarity and depth. That’s a good place to start.
Ask them
what they’re looking for
Is there
anything they’re particularly concerned about? Do they think they’ve nailed the
setting but are still unsure of their characters? Are they anxious about
inaccurately portraying a character of a different ethnicity, sexual
orientation, or political point of view? Try to home in on what they’re most
unsure about, and focus your feedback on that.
Be honest
but not brutal
If a writer
trusts your opinion, you owe them to be honest. Handing it back with a pasted-on
smile and the assurance that it was “perfect” is doing them a disservice. Use
tact where necessary, directness where necessary. But make sure your feedback is motivated by a
desire to help, not hurt. You wouldn’t want anyone to trash your piece, and
tear it to so many shreds that you don’t recognise it anymore. So try to rein
in your inner bitch.
Be
specific
Saying, “I dunno,
but I just didn’t like Theodore,” helps nobody. Why didn’t you like him? How
can you fix him? Try to focus on specifics. “Theodore’s character didn’t feel
realistic to me because he’s so consistently good that he almost doesn’t seem
human.” Or, “Theodore’s mode of speech just doesn’t sound right. It’s not
feasible to me that a man who never finished primary school would have the kind
of vocabulary you’re putting in his mouth.” There, now that you’ve explained
your concerns, your friend can fix the problem.
Be timely
Yeah, we’re
all busy, but if someone gives you their precious book and asks you to read it,
don’t toss it onto a drawer and convince yourself you’ll get to it “some time”.
We writers are an anxious bunch. If you make us wait too long for feedback,
we’ll start by consuming our fingernails, then move on to our toenails. Then
our digestive juices will begin to dissolve our stomach lining. And all the
while a nasty voice in our head will be chanting: They hate it because its
awful. I suck. My book is a disaster. I’m never going to write again.
Please, put
us out of our misery. Get back to us as soon as you’re able. Gracias.
Offer
suggestions
If you’re a
reader or a writer yourself, you’ll understand how valuable another person’s perspective
can be. Sometimes we know something’s wrong, but aren’t sure how
to fix it. If Theodore is too good to be true, how do we take him down a peg or
two . . . convincingly? Does he filch pennies from the tip jar at the deli? Does
he mumble an excuse and shut the door in the face of a couple of kids asking
for school donations? Sometimes our imagination well runs dry, and we’re glad
for a jump-start.
Remember,
though, that just because you shared an idea doesn’t mean you own it. Give of
your own free will, but for Gollum’s sake, don’t decide you have the right to
call your writer friend up every three days to ask if they’ve used your idea
yet. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t, but once a suggestion has been made,
you no longer have ownership.
So what does
this all boil down to? When you’re critiquing a piece, do as you would be done
by. Because next time, it might be you looking for an opinion, and you’ll want
only positive karma flowing your way.
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