#ProjectPurseDump - Week 9 - Confessions of a Purse Junkie by Linda Joyce (@LJWriter) - #WritersLife

As a fellow purse junkie, I can't help but be curious about what another poor. afflicted soul carries around all day. Given, the point of a purse is not always its function, but rummaging around another person's belongings is intriguing nonetheless. Without further ado...

Confessions of a Purse Junkie

by Linda Joyce

Hello. My name is Linda Joyce, and I’m a purse junkie. I have purses in different shapes and sizes. Purses made of different materials. If there’s a support group for purse junkies like me, one that provides inside tips about the best sales, then sign me up. But don’t think for a minute that I have any intention of kicking this habit.

I do want to clarify. While I am a purse junkie, I’m not a purse snob. I offer you a view of my Jam Bag as supporting evidence. It’s colorful. Has style. Notice the silver grommets and the black handles. And shows off my signature sign—Fleur de Lis. It’s ecofriendly, made from recycled bottles.  

So what do I jam in my jam bag?

1. Japanese key chain with my key fob, reward cards, and red change purse carrying three, dollar coins inside. 
2. Hairbrush – this is insurance. I carry it so I’ll never need it.
3. Turquoise wallet housing credit cards, stamps, miniature diploma from the University of Florida, and a few single dollar bills. It’s also big enough to hold my phone inside when I need to Grab-n-Go.
4. Leather case hiding an imported German fountain pen.
5. Pen—one of the first I got for SWAG
6. Lipstick – PÜR Moonlit Pearl
7. Business cards- name, address, rank, and no serial number.
8. Hand wipes from the casino in Biloxi. I came home $60 in the good and put it in the bank.
9. Kleenex
10. Mints – SWAG I carry around. Never know when I might meet a new reader.
11. Notebook—covert operations recorded to be used as secondary characters in a story.
12. Bookmarks for Her Heart’s Desire. On the flip side, the books in the Fleur de Lis series. 

About Linda Joyce

Linda Joyce is an award-winning contemporary romance author born on Christmas Eve. Her Louisiana family’s roots run deep, and they’re intertwined with her Japanese heritage. Her vagabond childhood afforded her a variety of travel opportunities. Now she lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and their three dogs: General Beauregard, Gentleman Jack, and Masterpiece Renoir.

Linda penned her first manuscript while living in Japan as a U.S. Air Force dependent. Her classmates lined up at recess to read her latest pages. During high school in Florida, a literary magazine published her poetry. In college, she worked on the school’s newspaper as a reporter and learned layout and design.

A graduate of the University of Florida, Linda holds a Bachelor of Science in Management. She worked in corporate America, earned the Senior Claims Law Associate professional designation, and completed Six Sigma Green Belt training.

Linda is a self-professed foodie and has the kitchen of her dreams. She enjoys painting when she can fit it in. She and her husband, Don, love college football. They frequently go RVing, and at last count, they’ve traveled to twenty-one states with “the boys.”

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#WriteTip - Rosanna Leo (@LeoRosanna) Explains the Joys of Plain, White Paper (and shows off NIGHT LOVER, her @HartwoodBooks #PNR)

I'm delighted to welcome Rosanna Leo back to my blog today. She's developing a reputation as quite the paranormal romance guru, and she's also one of the more prolific authors I've met to date. As such, this writing tip has my rapt attention (along with her newest paranormal romance from Hartwood Publishing). 

The Joys of Plain, White Paper

by Rosanna Leo

Thanks very much to Tara for hosting me today. I love her writing tip segments and am honored to be featured in them.

Today’s writer has so many resources. There are programs out there that help you plot your book online, that will dictate your work to you and God only knows what else. Of course, I’m sure we all use our trusty Microsoft Word to the pointwhere our laptops want to give up the ghost. My own keyboard is so well used some of the letters are rubbing off. It’s a good thing I know where to find ‘S’ because it disappeared long ago.

However, there is a tool I use frequently and I sometimes wonder who else still makes use of this archaic resource. I’m talking about plain, white printer paper. Yup. Your basic 8 ½ x 11 stock, the kind you find in offices and homes everywhere. It’s not fancy. It doesn’t write for me but when it comes to those crucial early days of plotting a novel, it’s invaluable.

I always plot initially on paper. Why? Well, because I change my mind about a hundred times or so. I never have a complete picture when I set pen to paper and for me to start creating Word docs at this point seems ridiculous. I prefer to set out several sheets of paper, one that documents my hero and heroine in detail, along with their histories. Others may chart the course of the action in the novel. Others still may detail certain motivations or the background of my villain. Once I see it all on paper, and it makes sense, then I feel ready to move it into a soft copy.

Does this seem old-fashioned in this age of technology? It probably is. It may not even be the most efficient use of my time. However, it makes sense to me. My brain likes it and whatever makes my brain happy during the plotting process, makes me happy.

I would urge other writers to explore their options as well. Gadgets are fun, but sometimes tried-and-true methods streamline our thoughts. Writing on paper allows me to disconnect and concentrate on the task at hand. It frees up my thought process. If it’s been a while since you’ve written “old school,” I would encourage you to try it.

Like Harold and his purple crayon, sometimes all you need is a pen, a clean surface and your imagination.

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Night Lover

by Rosanna Leo

Canadian soprano Renata Bruno is tired of waiting for her big break. Unfortunately, her boss, the conductor of a chamber ensemble, sees her as little more than background material. When she learns of an opportunity to sing solo with a different troupe in England, she knows she must seize it. Especially when she hears the group is to perform Mozart's Requiem, her favorite work.

As soon as Renata decides to make her move, a strange, sultry presence invades her life. She begins dreaming of a man, one who makes love to her, bewitching her. It isn't long before her night lover leaves startling proof of his nocturnal presence, making her doubt her senses.

To compound her discomfort, she learns her new conductor is the college boyfriend who broke her heart years ago. As Renata grapples with old hurts and renewed passion, she must also fend off the increasingly fervent advances of her night-time visitor. She realizes she is under the influence of an incubus, a sexual demon.

It becomes harder to resist the incubus when she learns he has a name and had a tragic history. The more she discovers about his past, the more she realizes they are linked in more ways than one. Renata begins to rediscover love and her sense of faith, but will it be enough to save her night lover from an evil curse? And will it destroy her in the process?

Excerpt

When I saw the face in this painting, I gasped, feeling as if someone had punched me in the gut.

Him.

It was the portrait of a man, much in the style of a Gainsborough painting. Full-length, it displayed the man in Regency dress. Tall Hessian boots reached up over his pants, accentuating his height. A waistcoat peaked out from under his soft blue riding coat. I looked up to the face above the coat, clean-shaven and somehow boyish with its round features. His hair was the color of honey and quite curly, with long sideburns travelling down his cheeks. Although he bore a fashionably serious countenance, his blue eyes smiled.

 It’s him.

The man from my recurring dream, the man from the theater mezzanine in Toronto. I blinked several times, not believing my eyes.

I couldn’t move. I returned the stare of the man in the portrait. A friendly face, it still managed to unnerve me. The artist must have been a master because its subject seemed to be looking right at me. His pale eyes bore into mine. As I continued to gaze at my dream man, other objects in the background began to blur. The portrait frame and the wallpaper behind him dissolved into nothingness. I could only make out the man, and his gaze seemed to issue me a challenge, daring me to look back at him. My head swam. My tongue grew thick. Pain shot through my stomach and I clutched it so I wouldn’t keel over.

Lizzy came out of nowhere and bounded up behind me. “What's up? Ooh, he's cute.” She, too, had noticed the portrait. She also saw how intently I stared. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No.” I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop myself from raking my gaze over every painted inch. “It’s him. The man from my dream.”

“Yeah, right.” She frowned.

Finn walked up to us and put a hand on my back, oblivious to my shock. “So you’ve found the lord of the manor.”

“Huh?”

“Hugh Dawlish, scion of Dawlish Manor. The women in the ensemble love this portrait because they think he’s, ah…easy on the eyes. So, shall we rehearse?”

I let him lead me away, but I couldn’t stop looking back at Hugh Dawlish’s portrait.       

He was real. Not a wraith from my imagination.

Real. And dead.

Lizzy elbowed me. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine.”

As we left the room, I looked back once more. The eyes of Hugh Dawlish followed me. I shivered.

A slight smile played on his lips.

ABOUT ROSANNA LEO

Rosanna Leo is a multi-published, erotic romance author. Several of her books about Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters have been named Top Picks at Night Owl Romance and The Romance Reviews.

From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.

A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance. Rosanna blogs at www.rosannaleoauthor.wordpress.com

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5 #Writing Tips from Christy Gissendaner (@ChristyGis), spotlighting her #Holiday #PNR, Christmas Spirits

I'm delighted to welcome paranormal romance author Christy Gissendaner back to my blog today. If you haven't noticed, she's a pretty regular guest. I only asked her for one writing tip, but, being an over achiever, she sent me five. No. 1 & 2 are already on my "Search and Destroy" list (thank goodness!), and I had to learn No. 3 the hard way through a particularly painful "Revise and Resubmit" (Can you imagine Catching Red as a non-linear story full of flashbacks? Well that's how it started.)  

My most recent brush with No. 4 was a case of "snake" vs. "snack," which my editor luckily caught.  And here's a confession: I've been needing constant reminders of No. 5 this year.

5 Writing Tips

from Christy Gissendaner

Thank you to Tara for having me over. It’s always a joy. Almost as much fun as living vicariously through her Roma FB updates! But now, on to the meat of my post….writing tips!

There are so many tips I wish I’d known when I first began writing. Tara asked me for one, but I’m going to go out on a limb and give you five. Trust me, there’s tons more in my arsenal!

1. Strike “that” from your vocabulary. I don’t care what you have to do – remove it from your Word dictionary, tape it to your screen – just forget that word ever existed!
2. Avoid “was” like the plague. You don’t have to run from it, like the aforementioned that, but you’re going to want to steer clear of it as much as possible.
3. Flashbacks. Don’t do them. Just…don’t.
4. Never believe no one will notice a typo. (Psst…someone will.)
5. And finally, don’t stop trying! Fourteen years into this writing gig and I’m still struggling “just to get up that hill”. Yes, I quoted the Good Times’ theme song. And if you don’t recognize it, you haven’t been writing nearly long enough. ; )

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Christmas Spirits

by Christy Gissendaner

Kia Mays has little time for anything as her lifelong dream of being a fashion designer comes to fruition. For Christmas, she takes time out of her busy schedule to visit her family in Georgia where her beloved grandmother, Naya, reveals a secret of her Baoule heritage.

In Baoule, located on the Ivory Coast of Africa, the people believe in spirit lovers, which you are separated from at birth. Tedros, Kia’s lover from the spirit world, appears to her and reveals that he is there to assist her in finding a mortal lover.

Elliot Melton, the brother of Kia's new sister in law, is also invited to share the season with the family. With the help of a meddling grandmother and an otherworldly spirit, Elliot and Kia soon find out that Christmas is the best time to fall in love.

Excerpt

Naya motioned her toward the living room with a smile.  “Sit down.  I’ll be right back.”

The couch was the same one that had been in the home Naya had shared with Geoff for decades.  It was worn and threadbare, but still comfortable. 

She settled into the cushions with a heartfelt sigh of relief, dropping her head against the crocheted afghan that always hung on the back of the couch.  Not a thing had changed except the fact that her grandfather wouldn’t be there to greet her. 

She blinked several times to clear her eyes.  It was their second Christmas without Grandpa Geoff, and it still saddened her whenever she thought of him.

“Are you ready?”

Kia looked up expectantly when Naya appeared carrying an item wrapped in tissue paper.  Naya glanced at the gift in her hands, then gave Kia a considering look.  Her dark eyes seemed as if she held the secrets to all life’s mysteries.  “I’ve never shared this with anyone but your grandfather.  Not even with your mother.”

Kia sat up straighter.  It wasn’t like Naya to beat around the bush.  She was about as straightforward as they came.  “What is it?”

Naya sat beside her, still cradling the item in her hands.  “The others wouldn’t understand, but you…”  She paused to touch Kia’s cheek.  “You’re the most like me.  You’ll understand the importance of what I’m about to show you.”

Kia was used to her grandmother’s dramatics, but this was different.  A force inside her recognized the truth of it.  She barely drew a breath as Naya unwrapped the tissue paper to reveal what was beneath.  She didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t what was revealed. 

She glanced at the wooden figurine with a puzzled frown.  “A doll?”

“No, not a doll.”  Naya’s wrinkled fingers stroked the figure gently.  “It’s your soul mate.”

“Um, Naya?  I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not really into wood.  Rubber, maybe, but…”

Behind her bifocals, the rolling of Naya’s eyes seemed overly pronounced.  “Hush your mouth.  He may hear you and take offense.”

Kia’s frown deepened.  Naya was getting on in years, but Kia had never suspected senility.  “Perhaps you should rest.”

Naya gave her a stern look, one that brooked no argument.  “I’ve not lost my mind, Kia LaShae, and shame on you for thinking so.  This figurine…” she held it up to the light.  “Is the physical reincarnation of your spirit lover, the one you’ve been separated from since birth.  The one you will rejoin in death.”

“My spirit lover, hmm?”  Kia tilted her head to one side and studied him.  “He’s a bit smaller than I would’ve liked.”

Naya put a hand to her forehead and mumbled a few words of her native language, ones Kia doubted were very complimentary.  “In Baoule, when you experience bad luck with your flesh and blood lover, it’s because your spirit lover needs to be appeased.  You must show attention to him to end the bad luck.”

Kia took the figurine from Naya and turned it over in her hands.  “Nice ass.”

“He’ll not like you poking fun at him,” Naya warned.

“Who’s poking fun?  He does have a nice ass.”  Kia pulled up his shirt and ran her forefinger over his ridged wooden abdomen.  “Nice six pack also.”

“I created him according to your specifications.”

Kia lifted an eyebrow.  “I didn’t say anything about a six pack, Naya.”

Her grandmother shrugged.  “I took the liberty of adding a few of my own.”

Kia touched the waistband of the hand sewn, miniature jeans he wore.  “Really?  Exactly what sort of traits?”

Naya slapped a hand over hers.  “Later, Kia.  First I must know if you have any questions.”

Kia placed the figurine, her supposed spirit lover, on the coffee table and crossed her legs.  “Yes, I do.  Did you forget your medication?  You don’t seriously expect me to believe this mumbo jumbo, do you?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“There was that bit about the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.”

About Christy Gissendaner

Christy Gissendaner is a paranormal and contemporary romance author who believes laughter and love should go hand in hand.

Christy lives in Alabama with her husband and three sons. She’s always hard at work on her next novel, but in her spare time she loves blackjack, karaoke, and anything resembling a vacation!

To find out more, please visit http://christygissendaner.webs.com

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