Archive for July, 2010

July 16, 2010

Woke up this morning to a howling gale and an email from Sourcebooks to say, ‘Yay! Here’s the full jacket of Dating Mr December.’

I’ve seen the front cover but never the Full Monty so here it is. It was a PDF so Ms Bennet (who’s here for the weekend, double yay) turned it into a png for me.

Its very different to the original artwork cover for Decent Exposure which was great fun. Although I’ll never forget the shock when I first saw it and thought: “OMG, there’s a naked man on the cover.” Naively, as a first-time author, it had never occurred to me that if you write a book based on a nude calendar, the designers might just pick up on that theme. In fact, I still hadn’t come to terms with writing romance at all but I’m gradually getting there.

So it’s fascinating to me to see the wildly different takes on the same book. I confess that this photographic cover just has the edge for me.

Still, neither of the covers are pink and fluffy which should please a certain person. OTOH, they do feature half naked men. Oh dear. I fear I am beyond redemption and will probably burst into flames any moment now!

I hear some authors complaining that their covers are too fluffy and girly, when, in fact, they write serious women’s fiction. This is misleading the reader and I understand where they’re coming from. I however, can’t complain because my books are sexy, fun, upbeat – and (gulp) romantic – and I think this cover reflects just that.

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July 15, 2010

Ms B and I were giggling over two posters in the window of Claire’s Accessories on Saturday. They featured two Twilight themed ‘looks’ that were designed to attract either Edward or Jacob (or maybe both!) I haven’t read the Twilight books yet, though I’ve seen the first movie. Ms B has read and seen them all.

This look, according to Claire’s, would appeal to Edward.

A new look for the Jacob fans.

It left me wondering what type of makeover would appeal to some other fictional heroes. John Thornton, for instance. Maybe you’d need a naive social conscience, something to cure your chronically sweaty palms (the real reason she refused to shake his hand) and a Victorian cleavage of Jordanesque proportions? (I’ve been trying to find a picture of Daniela Denby Ashe in *that* gorgeous dinner party dress. No wonder Mr Thornton seemed aloof, he was dumbstruck.)

How might you attract Mr Darcy? You’d definitely need fake tan (a natural consequence of your travelling in the summer,) 1000 calorie mascara (to enhance your fine eyes) and a realisation that you’d be willing to put up with a great deal to be Mistress of Pemberley.

Yes, I’m being very silly. Call it distraction therapy.

You can read the feature on Sugarscope here.

I dunno. What would attract *your* hero?

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July 14, 2010

Check out the shoes at the RNA Conference here. Now I wish I’d been able to go, even if only to drool in awe at all those gorgeous kitten heels, stilletos and bondage sandals. I do hope, however, that the RNA blog doesn’t start attracting the Wrong Sort of Shoe Fan.

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July 7, 2010

My Writing Room is featured on Novelicious today. Come and have a poke around the ‘luxurious mansion’ where I write my books… and find out how best to get a sticky keyboard.

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July 5, 2010

The 400th birthday party was fantastic – I’ll post a pic later in the week but today, I’m celebrating another event. Rosy Thornton, friend, fellow C19er and member of the RNA has a brilliant new book out. I’ve been lucky enough to get an early copy and it’s a must-read: warm, romantic and it will make you want to emigrate to the Cevennes in France, immediately!

Here’s Rosy to tell you about it.

Sane and normal people, when they come back from a particularly enjoyable holiday, pester their friends with their holiday snaps. ‘Look where I went,’ they say. ‘It was so beautiful. If only you’d been there – honestly, you’d just love it.’ But novelists, I’m afraid, are not sane and normal people.

Twenty years ago now, I spent a fortnight’s family holiday in the Cévennes mountains of the French Massif Central. We rented a funny little stone-built cottage, dark and almost windowless, high up in the hills in a tiny hamlet, reached by the twists and turns of endless winding hairpins. It was the most glorious, remote and peaceful place on earth. We took pictures – here is one of them. See how beautiful?

But my novelist’s version of pressing photographs on longsuffering friends was something bigger, a more sustained assault. I wrote a 120,000-word novel about it.

As with most ideas for books, I’m not quite sure of the process by which it came about. I suppose the landscapes of that holiday must have femented quietly inside me for two decades, until they hardened into the image of a house, a village, some characters, a story. The eventual outcome was The Tapestry of Love, which traces the steps of Englishwoman Catherine Parkstone as she moves to start a new life in my imagined hills.

To the uninformed observer, it might appear to be a perfectly ordinary novel. It has a setting, a cast, a plot. Catherine faces the usual challenges and conflicts required of fiction: she makes friends, she makes curtains, she faces doubts, she falls in love.

Only I know the secret truth: that the book is actually the literary equivalent of my holiday snaps.

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