The Home for the Holidays Mini Blog Tour
Twenty three days to Christmas, but only four days to the release of His for the Holidays, an anthology of festive novellas by Harper Fox, L.B. Gregg, Z.A. Maxfield, and Josh the Red-Nosed Writedeer. (I know, I know. I sound like I’m decking the halls about two weeks ahead of schedule.) Anyway, to celebrate the December 6th release, my writing cohorts and I are getting together to do a bit of promoting in the form of a mini blog tour.
What does that mean? It means for the days leading up to the official release of His for the Holidays, we’ll all be taking turns hosting little get-togethers on our various blogs. We’ll be chatting on such writerly topics as…oh…scene and setting, dialog, food…sex. You know. The usual.
And we’ll be giving away goodies. We’ll each be giving away some little thing on our blog, and then on December 9th we’ll all be blogging and chatting over at the Carina Press blog and giving away yet more goodies.
Sound like fun? I hope so because we actually went to a lot of work to make this nice for you. (And, naturally, to sell a pile of books.)
As the first post it falls to me to do the hawking of wares, so excuse me while I whip my megaphone out.
So…His for the Holidays coming your way express delivery from Carina Press via the North Pole.
Hope brightens a bleak Edinburgh December. A man gets a second chance with his high school crush. A decade-long game of cat and mouse comes to a passionate conclusion. And Santa Claus drives a red muscle car. Heat up your holidays with this collection of four festive tales from some of the top talent in the male/male genre.
Mistletoe at Midnight by LB Gregg
Nine Lights Over Edinburgh by Harper Fox
I Heard Him Exclaim by Z.A. Maxfield
Icecapade by Josh Lanyon
You can buy the stories individually or you can buy them all together in this nifty collection. Personally, as much as I need the dough, I think it’s in your interests to buy this collection. The four of us share quite a large chunk of readership, and if you haven’t read all of us, well, this is your chance.
*****
Okay, that’s it for the sales pitch. Relatively painless, right?
Let’s -- no pun intended -- talk about dialog.
A very long time ago when I was just a wee nib of the writing machine I am today, I listened to my sisters and mother talking about reading romances. Though they all loved romance novels, my sisters were impatient readers. They didn’t tend to quit a book, but they would skim -- as in one glance to a page -- if the writer couldn’t hold their attention.
At the time I thought this was rare. I know better now. As I eavesdropped, I kept hearing them refer to the “good parts.” Now, I know what you’re thinking because I jumped to the same cynical conclusion. But as I listened to them talking about watching for white space and quote marks as they skimmed, it dawned on me that they considered the dialog the good part.
I questioned my youngest (and most impatient) sister on this and got a piece of advice that has stood me well. “The dialog is where the relationship happens,” she said. (Impatiently, I might add).
They all confirmed this -- along with a few painful comments about how much time I wasted on scenery -- and I’ve never forgotten it. Any of it. (Damn them all.)
I mean, it’s pretty simple if you think about it. Where else would the relationship happen? It happens in the interaction between the characters, and about ninety percent of that interaction is conversation.
In fact, it’s kind of like real life. How do we get to know others? We talk to them, right? Even if we fall instantly into bed with them, sooner or later -- if we’re going to have a relationship -- we have to communicate.
The dialog in books is not like real life dialog. That is to say, it appears on the surface to be like real dialog. It sounds like real dialog, but it’s better. Much better. There are no boring bits or rambling bits or pointless bits. Bad jokes are not endlessly repeated, or stories we’ve heard so many times before. Even stammers and stutters and ellipses have a higher purpose.
Good dialog serves four basic purposes. It advances the plot, it develops character, it provides necessary exposition, and it amuses and entertains. Ideally it does all of it at once.
For example, this bit from Mistletoe at Midnight by LB Gregg. Look how she gives us the romantic backstory of our two protags -- as well as clue us into the different relationships Owen has with his family. And it’s all done in that breezy, casual, absolutely natural style.
From her spot on the opposite end of the table, Mom said, “I remember the first time you came to our house. It was the winter break of Owen’s senior year. You had blue hair and the two of you blushed the entire time.”
“Mom, I don’t think anyone wants to hear...”
“Blue hair?” Keith laughed. “That’s so extreme.”
“Extremely cool. Chicks dug it. And evidently our Owen did too.” Ryan looked between Caleb and I. “I never saw you at the house. Where the hell was I?”
“Molesting the sophomore class.”
May giggled. She must think I was joking.
“Those two were an item,” my mother announced.
“Caleb was Owen’s first boyfriend.” Truly, if Father Christmas loved me at all, he would gift my mother with acute laryngitis.
“What?” Keith’s aggrieved voice pinged through the room. “I thought you didn’t come out until college. I thought your first lover was that Terence guy in your anatomy class.”
“Yes, Owen. Tell us about Terence.” Ryan flinched as May kicked him under the table. “Hey. That hurt.”
“There’s a difference between coming out and making out. I think everyone understands that point.”
“Yes of course there is, but I don’t think you ever mentioned this.” Keith eyed Caleb. “You never mentioned anyone with blue hair.”
“Maybe you just weren’t listening,” Ryan offered helpfully.
What good dialog does not do is exist merely to exist. It does not exist to fill up the page and add to your word count. It does not exist because you’re in love with the sound of your own dialog.
Good dialog can set the scene and subtly cue the reader as to who the romantic interest is -- we have different conversations with the people we’re attracted to. Even when we’re talking about mundane things, there are hints, there are clues such as in this selection from I Heard Him Exclaim by ZA Maxfield.
“Something I can help you with?”
The man Poppy had called Santa stood right behind him. Except a less Santa-like person could not exist. This man was tall, buff and fine. He was probably less than ten years older than Chandler, if that.
“Hell yes. I have no clue what to look for. I raised the hood as a cry for help.”
The big man’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “Did you flood it?”
“Probably, but only as a last resort. It didn’t start before I pumped on the gas. Didn’t even turn over.”
“Gas won’t help you if she won’t turn over. You can’t start a fire without a spark.”
“Ha, like the song.” Chandler peeked at Poppy again and said the first thing that came to him, straight from The Boss himself. “Just dancing in the dark here, care to join me?”
The man pulled his head back and looked Chandler over thoughtfully. Wow. Sky-blue eyes held an erotic challenge that was unmistakable. He followed up that look with a slow grin. A guy smaller than him and with less presence would probably get himself killed giving some guy a look like that. “Maybe some time when you’re not so preoccupied.”
That got Chandler’s full attention, and he rose, except he misjudged where he was and hit his head on the hood. Ow. He slapped his hand over it to stop the sting. “What did you say?”
“Are you nervous about something?”
“No. Why should I be nervous?” Chandler wanted to disintegrate under that curious stare. “Okay. Yeah. I’m taking care of my niece. I keep thinking I have to keep an eye on her the whole time. It’s very distracting. I mean…I don’t want to be distracted from watching her…”
“Is she likely to try to escape?”
“No.” Chandler laughed. “It’s not that. I’ve only…I didn’t even think about public bathrooms and leaving her in the car if I need to look under the hood. I never considered what would happen if we got stuck.”
The man’s lips twitched. “Kids are pretty popular these days, though. People seem to take them lots of places.”
“Yeah. I know,” Chandler acknowledged with a sigh. “I just never had one before and I’m not used to thinking like a parent. What will I do if I can’t get the car started? We can’t just sit here. It’s not safe, is it? I just need to get to my mom’s. Once we’re there we’ll figure this out.”
Those blue eyes held compassion and amusement. “Calm down, boy.”
Chandler reacted instantly to the quiet authority in his voice. Something about it made him sigh, like when a handsome firefighter says, “Help is on the way, sit tight.”
What you deliberately leave out of the dialog is as important as what you put in. As in this bit from Icecapade.
Ten years older. Ten years harder. Ten years wearier too-as though Cuffe had been chasing Noel for a decade and had finally cornered him. His black eyes held a grim gleam of satisfaction at Noel’s obvious shock.
Noel practically stuttered, “It’s…you.”
“You mean you can still recognize the original? I’m surprised.” Cuffe’s voice was deep, his tone crisp. It had softened considerably in Noel’s memory.
Noel’s eyes went wider, his lips parted. He automatically opened the door, wordless as Cuffe walked into his home.
Occasionally, rarely, he’d let himself fantasize this moment. It had gone differently in his daydreams. To start with, he was generally shaved and not smelling like the stable.
“You read my books?”
Cuffe-faced with the unsmiling, brusque reality of him made it impossible to think of him as “Robbie” now-narrowed his dark eyes. “Let’s just say I’m aware of your…work.”
Oh. Uh-oh, in fact.
“Actually, I’d like to explain about that. I know I sort of took literary license-”
Cuffe interrupted. “I’m not interested. Consider yourself lucky I’m not a literary critic. You’d already be on your way to jail.”
That stung. “Hey, my books may not be masterpieces, but-”
“Save it, Snow. I’m here to question you in connection with a series of jewel robberies occurring in New York City over the past three months.”
It was the last thing he’d expected. Noel’s previous astonished-if confused-delight deflated. “You’re kidding.”
Cuffe gave one curt shake of his head. Not kidding.
“But I haven’t-” Noel tried again. “But I’m straight. I have been for years.”
“I doubt that,” Cuffe said dryly.
Good dialog establishes character as well as the special rapport between the two central characters -- and between the reader and the characters -- because when you find yourself smiling as you read along, or indignant on a character’s behalf, or getting teary-eyed, you know the writing is effective. Sample this action sequence from Nine Lights Over Edinburgh by Harper. There’s not a lot of talk, but what there is, is crucial to the relationship that builds between these men -- still strangers at this moment but destined to be much more. If they live through the night.
Leitner, one hand pressed to his left shoulder, was reaching with the other for his pistol. His head was down, his face a grim blank. There was blood everywhere.
McBride grabbed the gun for him. “Christ on a boat, Leitner! What have you done?” Leitner took the weapon in a red-streaked grip, and McBride, getting close enough, seized him by the armpits and dragged him into the shelter of the stairwell. “Here. Stay still, stay still. Let me look at that.”
“Why…why is he on a boat?”
“What?” McBride propped Leitner against the wall. He looked for a second into his beautiful, shock-grey face, then turned his attentions to the fist he had clenched against his shoulder. “Let go. Let me see.”
“Christ. On a…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s an expression.” McBride prised apart Leitner’s fingers and bore his hand down. Blood surged immediately. The fine charcoal jacket of his suit was soaked through with it-the shirt beneath too. Unceremoniously McBride ripped open Leitner’s tie and shoved his clothes back far enough to see the bullet wound, a raw red-black hole punched in the satiny skin. “That missed your heart by three inches, you bloody nutcase. What did you do it for?”
“I saw your partner wasn’t in place. I saw you look for him.” Leitner grimaced as McBride tore off his cloak, bundled it up and pressed it to the gaping hole. “Oh, that hurts.”
“I know. Hold it in place, nice and tight. You don’t believe in him, anyway, do you?”
“Who-your partner?”
“No. Christ.” It was a ploy of distraction only, something to take Leitner’s mind off passing out from the pain. “On a boat or otherwise.”
“I believe he existed, just not…in his divinity. I’m not a religious Jew-I don’t believe in anyone’s divinity. Do you?”
“Not right now, no.”
*****
Very often the characters we love the most are the ones who talk their way into our hearts.
***The gift I’m offering is a holiday album iTunes iMix called His for the Holidays with selections picked by the four of us. You can purchase the play list from iTunes HERE or you can wait and see if you’re one of the lucky two people I’ll select from those who correctly guess which author picked which songs for the CD.
Christmas / Sarajevo 12/24 (Instrumental) - Trans-Siberian Orchestra
The Rebel Jesus - Jackson Browne
Baby, It's Cold Outside (Glee Cast Version) - Glee Cast
Fairytale of New York - Kirsty MacColl & The Pogues
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - ("Meet Me in St. Louis" Original Cast) Judy Garland
Stop the Cavalry - Jona Lewie
All I Want for Christmas Is You (Original Version) - Mariah Carey
Snow - Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye & Bing Crosby
What Are You Doing New Year's Eve - Kate & Anna McGarrigle & Rufus Wainwright
If you want to play the guessing game, enter your guesses in the comment section down below. Unfortunately iTunes won’t honor gifts to non-US residents, so if you should happen to win and you’re not a US resident, we’ll substitute with a copy of His for the Holidays.
Either way -- whether you choose to buy the iMix yourself or enter the contest -- the album jewel case artwork is downloadable right here and right now
ZA Maxfield is cooking up something extra special on her blog tomorrow! Don’t forget to check in here.