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One of the best pieces of advice I ever heard about setting out to write a series, whether it’s a trilogy or a forty-book saga, is that before you start writing the first book, you have to know the “world” of the story intimately.

Yes, I heard this in a seminar geared mainly for speculative-fiction writers (sci-fi, fantasy, allegory, etc.). However, the same holds true for ALL fiction, and it was never brought more clearly to light than when I did my final revisions on Stand-In Groom. You see, in the two years since I last worked on the novel, I’ve written two different openings for the second book in the series, Menu for Romance (a spinoff). Though I didn’t realize I was doing it, I made a few decisions on different aspects of my setting, and some of my characters, that had been different in Stand-In Groom, or that could be added to it to tie the series even more closely together. When I finished edits, I posted an image of all of the notes I made:

Most of these are what we editors call “continuity” details. Such as:
–Forbes’s eyes are gray-green
–Major’s birthday is March 3
–Meredith drives a white Volvo SUV

Since finishing Stand-In Groom two years ago, not only have I gotten deeply involved in Meredith and Major’s story in Menu for Romance, but I’ve written a somewhat detailed synopsis for the third book in the series, A Case for Romance. Forbes, who is the cousin of Anne in SIG, and the older brother of Meredith in MFR, is the hero of the third book. But I was never quite sure who the heroine was. I’d come up with a story idea when I originally pitched the series to Barbour, but even then I wasn’t crazy about the heroine I’d created for him. In the process of writing MFR, a woman walked in and demanded a supporting role and all of a sudden, I had a perfect match for Forbes. Fortunately, I “met” her and came up with the story idea for book three before I went into final revisions on SIG, so I was able to actually drop her name, and the name of her parents’ business (which is important in book three) into Stand-In Groom, tying the books together.

Knowing your “world” is more than just knowing the setting where your story is taking place. It’s knowing as much about your characters as you can. If you’re writing a series in which the main characters from your first book either continue on as the main characters of your second book, or have a supporting role, you need to know them well enough by the end of the first book that you aren’t going to get into the middle of the third book and realize that there’s something fundamentally wrong with one of them that you need to change, which is going to require a complete rewrite of the series . . . especially if you’ve already sold that first book.

Whether you’re using a real or fictional, contemporary or historical setting, one POV character or six, keeping a continuity sheet is important—and that goes for people who aren’t writing series as well! If you have the sign out in front of Delacroix Nursery and Florists being green in chapter three and blue in chapter nineteen, that’s something a copy editor might not catch, but a reader probably will. If Forbes has gray-green eyes in Stand-In Groom (where he’s a secondary character) and hazel-brown eyes in A Case for Love (where he’s a POV character), while that might not necessarily be as noticeable as if it happened in the same book, if someone goes through and reads both books back to back, they are going to notice—and probably lose a little bit of confidence in me as an author. Same goes with my setting. Because Bonneterre is fictional, my readers are depending on me to know the setting intimately. If I “misplace” something from one book to the next—as in, it’s near Town Square in book one and on the north side of downtown in book three—again, the reader loses confidence in my authority as the creator of this setting.

Now, does this mean that you have to map all of this out before you start writing? Not exactly. But it does mean that you have to do some work with your characters and settings before you start writing. That’s why I like to use Real World Templates for my characters, so I don’t have to try to constantly conjure a mental image of my own making for them. That’s why I also make a character spreadsheet as well as a collection of images of the characters as I write. That way, as I write more of the series, I have these files to refer back to so that I’m not having to comb through the first book to find the information or just try to remember it on my own.

For Discussion:
How much time do you spend on developing your characters and setting before you start writing? How do you keep track of the details you’ve written into your story for continuity?

When I first started writing my historical romance, I thought it was going to be very much like my contemporaries: a stand-alone story with, perhaps, the possibility for a spinoff with a secondary character. However, the more I got into the story and the characters, the more I came to realize that I had way too much story to fit it all into one 100,000-word novel. When I sat down and wrote a (very generalized) synopsis including all of the ideas and conflicts I already knew I wanted to include, I realized I had enough for two novels. Then, as I got into the middle of writing the first book and I suddenly had POV characters I hadn’t planned on being POV/important, I realized that there was no way the story would fit into two books . . . but it would make a great trilogy. There were natural breaks in the story—natural cliffhangers as well as places to give satisfactory conclusions—to be able to not only keep the reader hanging and wanting to buy the next book to find out what happens, but enough big subplots to wrap up each book satisfactorily.

When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote the Lord of the Rings story, he envisioned it as one massive volume. But because it was being published after WWII, when money and paper were scarce, the publishers decided it needed to be broken into three volumes. Because Tolkien had written the story in six “books,” the natural place to break them was after books 2 and 4, so that each volume of the trilogy was about the same length.

How do you know if what you’re writing is a series?
Remember yesterday, we discussed the three different kinds of series: spinoffs, sequels, and serials. If you’re writing a stand-alone novel, you can ask yourself if there’s the possibility of a sequel—of continuing the story beyond the ending. Is there enough conflict? Is there an overarching storyline that could tie more than one book together as a whole story? If not, ask yourself if you can take your main characters and put them in a new set of circumstances and have a new story in a serial series. If the main conflict for your characters ends at the end of the novel, are there any minor characters you could take to spinoff a new novel from?

Don’t forget about using themes rather than characters as a way to develop series. What about a series of novels based on telling the “romances” of each of the first ladies of the U.S.? Debra White Smith did a contemporary-set retelling of each of Jane Austen’s novels. What about doing the same with your favorite classic author like Dickens or the Bronte sisters (come on, you know Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights are just begging to be set in modern times). What about a series of historical novels based on the lives of the royal family of Liechtenstein or Luxembourg?

But what if you just have a really long story that has no natural place to break it? We’ve all been told that publishers won’t look at anything over about 120,000 words. What if yours is 180,000 or more—and it just doesn’t seem like you’ll be able to break it into two novels? Well, then you may be in a quandary . . . you’re either going to have to convince a publisher to publish a five- or six-hundred-page novel—which is a hard sell unless you’re an established author like Steven King or J.K. Rowling or Philippa Gregory—or you are going to have to find a way of breaking it into a series.

The way to do this is with subplots and secondary characters. If you haven’t already, write a detailed synopsis of your novel. If you have a story of 150,000 words or more, you’re going to have several major events happening. (If you don’t, you should probably consider either adding some conflict or cutting a lot of stuff out, as you’ll need several major conflicts to sustain a reader’s interest in something that long.) Is there a major event that you could use as a climax of your first novel? Do two of your main characters get married? Is there a major battle? Does someone important die?

Look at how Peter Jackson broke the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Rather than following the way it breaks in the printed books, he broke it more naturally with how the story flows. He broke Fellowship of the Ring after the death of Boromir (which is the opening sequence of the second book). That gave him a battle for a climactic scene, as well as the goodbyes to Boromir as the denoument. Even though in the long-term scheme of the story, it’s not a conclusion, just the breaking of the Fellowship, it made a natural place to end the first “volume.” In a similar manner, he chose to end the second film with the Battle for Helm’s Deep, with the aftermath of the battle as a denoument.

Look in your story for episodes like that—times of great conflict for your character which have a satisfactory conclusion (remember, “satisfactory” doesn’t have to mean “happy”), but which still leave the main story arc conflict hanging.

For Discussion:
Have you ever written or are you currently writing a series? Which kind is it (spinoff, sequel, serial)? Did you know when you first started writing it that it would be a series (two, three, or more books)?

se•ries: SEER-eez (n)
1. a group or a number of related or similar things, events, etc., arranged or occurring in temporal, spatial, or other order or succession; sequence.
4. a set of successive volumes or issues of a periodical published in like form with similarity of subject or purpose.
Random House Unabridged Dictionary, 2006

When it comes to fiction, what is a series? Well, to put it simply, a fiction series is a number of books written around a particular continuity theme. It can be a duet, a trilogy, or an open-ended number of books, but they are a series only if there is some thread that ties them all together.

What kind of thread? Well, that depends. In Jan Karon’s Mitford series, the continuity thread is the main character, Father Timothy. Dee Henderson’s O’Malley novels are tied together because the main characters in each of them are adopted siblings. But they’re also tied together because each of the main characters is in some kind of “heroic” profession—like a police detective, a U.S. Marshal, a firefighter, a grief counselor, or an EMT. In Susan May Warren’s Deep Haven series, it is the setting that ties the books together, though the characters from the previous books do make “cameo” appearances in subsequent books.

With some series, there is a little bit of a difference, because it’s a continuing story throughout the series—which is seen most commonly in trilogies such as the Lord of the Rings series—in which the first two books may give a somewhat satisfying ending, but more than likely just leave the story hanging so that you have to continue reading to get any closure. This is true in some longer series, such as J.M. Hochstetler’s American Patriot series—which will extend to seven or eight volumes before the storyline comes to a conclusion.

The many ways of tying books together to create a series can pretty much be broken down into the three different kinds of series: spinoffs, serials, and sequels.

Spinoffs: A series of novels that take an existing minor character, setting, or concept from the first stand-alone story and create a new plot/situation for additional stand-alone stories. Examples: Dee Henderson’s “Uncommon Heroes” series or Christine Schaub’s “Music of the Heart” series that had as its continuing thread the novelization of the stories behind some of the greatest hymns of all time. Spinoffs are very common in the Romance genre—or in TV, though sometimes without as much success as in novels (e.g., Joni loves Chachi, Joey, or Frasier or the “Avonlea” series that was a spinoff of the Anne of Green Gables setting).

Serials: A series of novels that follow one particular character throughout many different, mostly unconnected episodes. Each novel is self-contained and could be read as a stand-alone title, though each successive title reveals more about the continuing character(s). Examples: Tony Hillerman’s novels featuring Navajo tribal police officers Leaphorn and Chee; Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan novels; Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels; Sherlock Holmes; Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys… are you sensing a genre pattern? Serials are seen most often in Mystery/Suspense and Action/Adventure. This is also what makes up the bulk of TV programming: the CSI and Law & Order franchises are prime examples. If you’re addicted to them, you watch every week and pick up on all of the tiny hints about the continuing-characters’ lives outside of the cases they’re working. However, the driving force of each week’s episode is the self-contained crime they must solve. Non-addicts can come in at any time and watch an episode and understand 95% of what’s going on (the other 5% being information about the characters that have been built throughout the series, such as Bobby Goren’s mother’s schizophrenia and cancer, or Horatio Cane’s relationship and short-lived marriage to Eric’s sister).

Sequels: A series of novels that contain one continuing story in a finite number of volumes. While each volume has a beginning, middle, climax, and denouement, the main plot/conflict of the series continues throughout the series and finally comes to a climax and resolution in the final volume. This main plot/conflict must be introduced early in the beginning of the first book. It cannot suddenly appear three chapters from the ending. While, if well-written, sequel-series books could be read separately, it is usually necessary to start with the first volume and read them in sequence to truly understand the entire storyline. Examples: Star Wars (whether taken as the original trilogy or the full set-of-six films), Tracie Peterson’s “Ribbons West” series, the Harry Potter series. Sequel series are most common in Science Fiction, Fantasy (just do a search for “trilogy” in the books section of amazon.com!), and Historical Fiction/Romance. In television, these are shows such as LOST or Alias where each show builds the story upon what happened in the show before, and it’s really difficult to come into the middle of it and really know what’s going on without going back to the beginning to catch up.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll be examining what, exactly, goes into developing and writing a fiction series, so I hope you’ll stick around for the journey.

As promised, here is a review of posts on following up and preparing your requested submission.

Following Up After Pitching
Follow-up after a pitch session is very important, whether you’re asked to submit or not.

Networking: Stumbling Block #2–Communication—Have you ever considered taking your thank-you notes to the conference with you and mailing them from the hotel as soon as your pitch session is over?

Networking: Stumbling Block #3—Following Up—How long should you wait after the conference to follow-up with either a thank-you note or a submission? Can you contact the editor later even if they didn’t request a submission?

Networking Refresher–When Did We Stop Sending Notes?—Sure, e-mail correspondence is easy, but a hand-written note shows that you’ve taken time and effort with your communication.

Preparing Your Submission
Ah . . . what a wonderful feeling! You’ve received a request to submit from an editor or agent. But then you get home and you start to second-guess yourself. What if it’s not good enough? I still need to do lots of work on it before it’s ready. As I told Sharon on the ACFW forums the other day—editors and agents don’t ask to see your stuff out of the goodness of their hearts. They ask for a submission because they see promise in what you’ve pitched to them. If they can see the potential through a one-sheet or verbal pitch, they’ll be able to see it through a submission’s rough edges. You have NOTHING to lose if you submit. If you let the opportunity pass you by, you could possibly be losing your only chance with that editor or agent. I forget where I saw it, but somewhere in the last couple of days, I read that editors and agents say that they receive less than half of the submissions they request at conferences. Those are odds in your favor. So get that requested submission in!

A standard submission is a cover (query) letter, full synopsis, and first three chapters (or thirty or fifty pages, whatever the editor/agent requested).

Beyond the First Draft—The Query Letter—While a requested submission isn’t really a “query,” the same format is used for a cover letter with a submission as is used for a query. Article links to a sample letter.

Beyond the First Draft–The Dreaded Synopsis—We all hate writing them. So here are some pointers I’ve gleaned through the years on what the dreaded synopsis should include. Links to samples of both a short and a standard-length synopsis.

What’s the Big Deal about First Lines?—Does your first page start off with a bang? Make sure that the chapters you’re submitting catch the editor’s/agent’s attention immediately.

Critical Reading: The First Date—Editors and agents are professional critical readers. Here are some of the questions they may be asking when looking at your submission.

Hooking the Reader: The Character Investment—Make sure that your character(s) hooks the editor/agent immediately. Poor character development is a big turn-off and almost a guaranteed rejection.

Hooking the Reader: Scene Two, Take Five—It isn’t just the first page that needs to hook the reader. Make sure you carry that through the entire submission . . . and choose an ending point that’s going to leave them wanting to see more!

Writing the Romance Novel: You’ve Written It, Now What? (Guest Blogger Rebecca Germany)—Barbour Senior Fiction Editor Rebecca Germany gives a little insight on what an editor looks for in a submission.

No, I’m not starting the conference prep series right now (that’ll be in August). But I know people are starting to get antsy about the ACFW conference, since we haven’t been able to register yet, so I thought I’d post links to stuff I’ve written that may be helpful in trying to figure out what happens at conference, what to take to a pitch session, how to network, etc.

I’m a Wallflower and Don’t Know Anyone
Though right now we’re all excited and anxious to register for conference, come August, all of us are going to be facing the fear that being surrounded by hundreds of people can bring. Yes, even I, with eight conferences under my belt, have the fears of I’m not going to know anyone. I’ll be all alone. No one will like me. This is a mistake. So here are some posts that include exercises you can start doing this summer to help you prepare to approach all those strangers with a little more ease in September:
Networking–What is it, really?
Networking Refresher–The “Soft Sell”
Networking = Name Recognition = Marketing
Networking Refresher–Building Name Recognition
Networking: Stumbling Block #1–Fear
Networking Refresher–Is This Seat Taken?

Preparing Your Pitch
Pitching to an editor or agent face-to-face can be one of the most daunting things we as writers face. Because the majority of writers are introverts, putting ourselves forward, talking about ourselves, “selling” ourselves is intimidating at best, nauseating and panic-attack-inducing at worst. Here are some posts that can help you prepare your pitch so that you can (hopefully) approach your pitch session(s) with confidence:

Beyond the First Draft–Clarity—Two of the most important things you’ll need to do are to make sure you are targeting the correct publisher and to understand and be able to easily describe your novel. This post will help you get from your thirty-second pitch to your one-sentence to your one-paragraph to your one-page synopses.

Beyond the First Draft—The Pitch Sheet and One-Sheet—Though they used to be the exception, having a one-sheet for each project you’re pitching is now the norm. The sample linked on this post was my first attempt, so pay no attention to it!

My Pitch Sheets!—Samples of the pitch sheets I took to conference last year.

Beyond the First Draft–Face-to-Face Pitch Sessions—Not only do I detail what I take with me into a pitch session, but there’s a link to Gina Conroy’s wonderful article on pitch sessions.

Networking Refresher–Face-to-face editor/agent meetings—This post links to articles that Camy Tang wrote on pitch sessions.

Tomorrow, following up after pitching and preparing your requested submission!

Beginning next week, I’ll be starting a new series, so I want to collect as many questions as I can ahead of time to make sure I research all of the areas of interest.

Writing Series Novels: As a follow-up to the series I did on Endings, this series will go more deeply into how much to review in a sequel or a follow-up—is it backstory, flashback, or even necessary? How many threads can you leave hanging at the end vs. how much should be wrapped up? Can you introduce the POV of the main character of a second/spinoff novel if they’re not a POV character in the original? Etc.

Now, what haven’t I mentioned that y’all would like to see covered in this series?

This was originally posted in August 2006

“The goal of reading is not to sound out words but to unlock meaning.”
~Jill Frankel Hauser, Wow! I’m Reading!

I don’t really remember the process of learning how to read. I remember not liking to read aloud because, occasionally, the letters would switch places on the page and Malibu would become Mabilu, nova—avon. I’m not dyslexic by any stretch of the imagination—I just think my brain skipped ahead, then fell back to where it was supposed to be, mixing up the letters in the process.

I do remember that I disliked spelling bees in school, but I usually did pretty well on spelling and vocabulary tests (aside from the occasional mixed-up letters). As an adult, I know the reason why I’m a bad oral speller is because I’m visually oriented. If someone asks me to spell a word longer than about five or six letters, I scrounge for a scrap of paper and pen to write it down before trying to spell it out for them.

The quote above is from a book I edited at work—a reading how-to for parents of three- to seven-year-olds. Since I had to retype the entire 160 page tome, I spent a couple of weeks thinking about reading and stories and how much of an impact the written word has had on my life, and how thankful I am that I have a decent level of mastery over the English language, both spoken and written.

Because I was exposed to print as something more than just a necessary evil—the “sounding out” of the words—I fell in love with the world of fiction. I could find new worlds, live different lives, meet new and interesting people all by reading (which was great for a socially inept introvert like I was!). I thank God that both of my parents are avid readers and that sitting in the living room quietly on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon reading was a normal occurrence in our home.

As children, we live in a world of make-believe—just observe any child at play. At a certain age, though, most children are taught that make-believe is childish and to grow up, they must stop playing—stop making believe—and live in a world of fact, not fantasy. Once again, I must thank God that my parents never did this to me. At thirteen or fourteen years old, when I told my mother of stories I wished my favorite series of YA romances (the Sunfire series) would do, she encouraged me not just to write the publisher (Scholastic) but to write the stories myself. Even though I never completed writing one, I did query the publisher (and received my first, very kind, rejection). But those first original ideas committed to paper (before, all of my stories had been acted out with my Barbies) immersed me in a world of “unlocking the meaning” of words and language. I began to see weekly vocabulary lists as more than just something to be memorized—they added meaning, richness, and texture to my world. To this day, my one must-have writing tool is Roget’s Encyclopedic Thesaurus (the one arranged thematically, not dictionary-style) or access to www.thesaurus.com.

It took me many years to get a grasp on the technical aspects of writing fiction, and only in the last six or seven years have I written anything I’m willing to let anyone else read. But since as far back as twenty-four or twenty-five years ago, writing has added meaning to my life as much or more than reading. Writing for me is sounding-out the literal and figurative words that make up the world around and inside of me so that I can unlock its meaning.

John Thornton (Richard Armitage) and Margaret Hale (Daniela Denby-Ashe) in North & South

One of the main criticisms of the romance genre is that it sets up unrealistic expectations for what life is really like. We all grew up on the Disney version of romance: Snow White and Sleeping Beauty were doomed to languish forever until receiving true-love’s kiss (never mind the fact that she didn’t know anything about him, having only met him once); Cinderella is doomed to a life of servitude until she attends a ball, where she meets a prince, who then puts her shoe back on for her (never mind the fact that she’s only met him once and doesn’t know anything about him). Belle at least gets to spend time with her Beast of a prince before committing to him in marriage—never mind the fact that his life has just completely and utterly changed and she has no idea what he’ll be like now that he’s a completely different “creature.” Ariel’s non-aquatic prince falls for her when she can’t even talk to him so that he can learn anything about her.

Do you get my point? The ending Disney gives us (and many romantic movies, for that matter) is, “And they lived happily ever after.”

Let’s get real. No one lives “happily” ever after. Contentedly, maybe. Companionably, definitely. But no one can be happy for the rest of their lives.

This is why, in the romance novel, one of the most important parts of the plot is the “lose”—the part of the story in which the hero and heroine are separated, when something comes between them that will possibly take one away from the other. It is their struggle to make things right again, to reconcile their relationship, that lends credence to the idea that these two people will be content together for the rest of their lives.

In a romance novel, we’re striving for a “happy ending,” one that will leave the reader with the confidence that five, ten, thirty, fifty years down the road, this couple will still be together. They will be able to overcome all of life’s unhappiness and find the strength to make it through in each other (and in God, in inspirational romances). That means we must spend the majority of our story showing the reader that these two people have the ability to make their own happy ending. That they aren’t going to give up at the first bump in the road (i.e., they won’t cave under the conflicts that come their way in the story), that they believe in each other (i.e., if their “lose” is based on misunderstanding or a mistrust issue, it must be solved, the trust rebuilt before the conclusion of the story), and that they won’t stray (i.e., why it’s a good idea not to start a romance novel off with one of the two characters already in a serious relationship that’s going well, otherwise, what’s to keep her from dumping the hero and moving on if someone better comes along, if she already has that track record?).

Have you ever finished a romance novel and were absolutely disgusted by the sappily sweet dialogue between the hero and heroine at the end? I feel that way every time I finish writing one of my manuscripts. Because I’ve never been in a romantic relationship, and because those conversations are usually pretty private, I have a hard time getting my head around what might actually be said in one of those situations. But when I read one that works, I know it, because of the exhilaration I feel, the longing sighs I give, the sadness that the story has ended, the desire to read it again.

This is where filmmakers have it easier than novelists—they can just give us a great kiss at the end and we’re happy. Think about these on-screen kisses: Aragorn and Arwen, From Here to Eternity, Breakfast at Tifffany’s, An Officer and a Gentleman, The Princess Bride (though it does have narrative over it), Say Anything, When Harry Met Sally, Pretty Woman, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Titanic, and Spiderman (not technically a kiss at the ending, but the upside-down kiss). How much easier are those kisses to show than they would be to write?

What filmmakers can show with a kiss or with the hero and heroine riding off into the sunset, we have to do with words, usually with dialogue. When we do it right, it’s like when Michael Vartan comes out onto the pitcher’s mound and kisses Drew Barrymore at the end of Never Been Kissed. When we do it wrong, it’s like that old cliched 1930s/40s kiss with the kicked-up foot, the heroine in a somewhat reclining position in the hero’s arms—what I call the “Calgon, take me away” kiss, because it’s about as substantial as bubbles in a bath.

As I said, I always hate my endings when I write them, but I do try to keep one thing in mind: my characters will never say or do anything at the end of the book that would be completely out of character for them. A hero not well-versed in literature is not going to suddenly start waxing poetic. A heroine who has a strong personality isn’t going to suddenly turn faint and weepy (though she might burst into tears like Eleanor at the end of Sense and Sensibility, because she just can’t stay strong any longer—but that character had the potential to do that from the very beginning). A hero who keeps his emotions bottled up inside isn’t going to find it easy to share what he’s feeling with the heroine—and go on and on about it for paragraphs.

Another thing I try to do with my endings is to somehow tie in the main theme, possibly even the title of the novel, with what is said in the last scene. For example, the last lines of Ransome’s Honor are:

William’s ship, his career, his reputation—none of it mattered any longer. For, if asked, he would walk away from his crew, forsake his duty, and even sacrifice his own honor to provide for and protect Julia.

Love demanded nothing less.

For Discussion:
How do you like romance novels to end? Lots of dialogue—promises of undying love? A great kiss? A wedding scene? If you’re a romance writer, how do you end your novels?

I may have mentioned before that during my time in graduate school, I had the privilege of working with many critique partners, all of whom wrote romance in different aspects of the genre. One particular semester, when I was trying to incorporate more sensuality in my writing, I partnered up with a wonderful friend who writes very steamy stories. Because Penny Dawn can make something as simple as grilling a cheese sandwich into a nuclear reaction between a hero and heroine, I asked her if she would share some of her insights into incorporating sensuality in romance.

~~~~~~~~~~

The goal of entertaining, sustainable fiction is to reach out to readers, to remind them of something or someone in their past, to connect them to the drama on your pages. In short, they must feel the sensuality of a subject in order to feed the desire to turn the pages.Most often, when writers and readers alike hear the words sensual and romance together, they conjure images of traditional bodice rippers, sexually explicit novels, Regency-era tales of unbridled passion. While the masses agree that each of these certainly contains, or at least should contain, a height of sensuality, the majority of consumers neglect to realize that sensuality should be a part of every piece of fiction, be it medical drama, erot*ca, or even sweet romance, where sensual boundaries are strictly drawn.

How, then, can a writer of sweet romance trigger sensuous reactions to her work without going overboard or crossing the line into the erot*c zone?

My answer lies in the textbook difference between two words often used interchangeably in the English language: sensual and sensuous. Sensual means pertaining to the senses, which gives a more primal, voluptuous feel to the word. Sensuous, on the other hand, is defined as affecting the senses, which gives it a more refined intuition. Ergo, if your writing is sensual, the readers’ reactions to it are sensuous. The heat level of a piece should have nothing to do with it at all.

In order to achieve the goal of writing fiction with sensual elements, you must direct yourself to the root of all things sensual and sensuous—the five senses.

Good fiction digs into sight, sound, taste, scent, and texture, as it is through these elements readers experience the world around them. By bringing a familiar aroma of budding lilac to your page, you carry your reader to a faraway garden she explored as a teen. With the addition of a heart pounding in her chest, and the grazing of a young man’s calloused finger against her hand as he flashes his million-dollar grin amidst the peach glow of a sunset, she remembers the anticipation of her first kiss. And then…you’ve hooked her. Why? She’s relating to the tale you’re telling.

In sweet romance, by definition, all sensuality comes through in building anticipation between two characters and ends when lips touch, if not before. While you might consider the task of creating sensuous responses in fiction with distinct boundaries more difficult than, say, a writer who’s able to explore the full-bodied skin of her characters in their entirety, guess again. Very often, it is the erot*c romance writer’s task to keep s*x emotional, as well as titillating. She relies on the anticipation of the act as much as you do to achieve this. Therefore, you needn’t explore body parts to hit the nail on the head.

Not every sentence should be bogged down with sensory detail. A good rule of thumb is to filter such details through your pages, so that a page as a whole depicts a single image, and sends a single message, rather than a horde of them. As in real life, a person can be hit with sensory overload, which exhausts the appetite for a connection, instead of whetting it. Try walking your reader through a scenario, as if she’s sauntering through that garden of lilac. She wouldn’t notice everything right away; she’d register small details, one at a time, a little here, a little there. Put yourself in her position, and you’ll get it right.

Be advised: you shouldn’t belabor the sensory details of a piece; however, you should tease your writer with them. Think of sensory details as a feather tickling the back of your neck. At first, you don’t know what it is, but it triggers a response. As the strokes of the feather become more precise, more uniform, more determined, you allow yourself to relax, to sink into the caress, to enjoy it.

It may help to weave sensory details through the elements of story. In fact, you may find it comes naturally to explore the senses as you:

• Set your scene
• Depict your characters
• Build your conflict
• Offer resolution

After all, you’d be hard pressed to describe anything without resorting to your senses.

Last, because sweet romance writers cannot end a sensual scene with the pinnacle of sensuality (a.k.a., the almighty org*sm,) you must learn to satisfy your reader emotionally, given what you’ve offered her. Is it enough that he whispered into her ear? Is it enough that he wanted to kiss her, even though he didn’t muster the courage? Is it enough that she turned away because she wanted the anticipation to carry on through another moonlit night? In order to achieve satisfaction, the sweet romance writer, like her erot*ca-writing counterpart, must set the expectation for her reader.

Just as readers of erot*ca expect one hum-dinger of a s*x scene, readers of sweet romance need to hang onto the anticipation. They need to remain in love with your characters and share their goals. So, how is that achieved?

Hmmm…I remember saying something about sensory detail being the cornerstone of readers’ relating to a scene. Use it, and they’ll keep those pages turning.

About the Author:
Penny Dawn began writing at the tender age of seven, and she’s delighted now to call her favorite pastime a career. Romantic stories with passionate twists have become her forte. She has published several shorts, novellas, and full-length novels of varying degrees of heat…from simmering to sizzle.

Penny Dawn holds a B.A. in history and English from Northern Illinois University and an M.A. in Writing from Seton Hill University. When she isn’t writing, Penny enjoys tap, ballet, and lyrical jazz dance, physical fitness, and home renovation.

Drop by her website: www.pennydawn.com to discuss all things decadent. If you wish to contact Penny, please drop her a line, or request an invitation to join Penny Dawn’s Romance…with a Passion! at penny_dawn1111 (at) yahoo.com.

For the past month we’ve been discussing the finer points of writing the romance novel. Well, once you’ve written it, then what do you do? You submit it, obviously. But to whom? Well, why not to the publishing house that is the house for inspirational romance and women’s fiction: Barbour Publishing. Today, Barbour’s Senior Fiction Editor Rebecca Germany gives us a little insight on her process as she reviews and considers proposals.

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I started drinking coffee just a few years ago, but the longer I drink it the more particular I get about the type of coffee I buy and what I put into it for flavor. I can no longer get excited about canned coffee grounds or powdered creamers. My tastes have grown, refined.I’ve been reading romance proposals for almost 15 years now, and I’ve become pretty particular about those too. I know what I like and what I don’t, and it takes a lot to WOW me these days.

When looking at a proposal, I may breeze over a cover letter, looking for who wrote it and what the story theme in a sentence would be (includes setting and main plot conflict). Looking at word length also helps me quickly determine if it is for me to consider for full-length or to pass along to one of our shorter romance lines.

Very quickly, though, I will jump to the first page of the story and see if the writing draws me in. If the theme of the story and the writing sample interest me, I’ll take time to look at the summary to see where the author is taking the story.

I find it no longer takes a lot of time to recognize bad or otherwise lacking writing. If it is easy to set the proposal aside and forget I have it, then it is also a good sign that I’m not likely to publish it no matter how long I hold onto it.

If I’m hooked and ready to ask to see more of the story, it is at that time I’ll be interested in things like the author’s bio, web site, previous publications, and so on.

So, basically I’m looking for a unique romance story that can be cleverly summed up in a sentence that will intrigue me, then I’m looking for a great first chapter that shows me you can write and draw your reader in to want to read more.

At Barbour we are no longer accepting submissions that are mailed in by old-fashioned delivery. We accept emailed submissions at fictionsubmit (at) barbourbooks.com. The body of the email is your cover letter, and the rest of your proposal should be attached in one file. Unfortunately we still have a “slush” pile of submissions we have to weed through, but the electronic submissions will hopefully manage the pile more efficiently and with less cost to the company.

Rebecca Germany
Senior Fiction Editor
Barbour Publishing, Inc.