Huh? What Did You Say You Write?

I’m asked this question many times. At first, I tried to give the questioner a true definition of my work. But then I learned to stop doing that when their eyes starting glazing over. You see, for a lot of authors, this is a loaded question. Instead, I tend to give the person a definition that is relatively close to what they know.

My answer? I write Twilight for adults. That way they know I write about vampires and werewolves. They also know that I write erotica by the clarification that my books are for adults. Trust me. It’s so much easier than trying to explain.

The problem is that most people, including many writers, have a difficult time defining what each genre is. What is paranormal romance? What is fantasy? What is urban fantasy? I have long since decided that the labels don’t really matter. I write, as many authors do, a combination of many genres. We blend, taking parts of one genre and adding it to another. It’s not uncommon for stories to be a mix of multiple genres.

For instance, most of my books are considered paranormal romances. However, I also have hints of urban fantasy when I write kick-a** heroines. Sometimes, I’ll blend the paranormal with fantasy with a supernatural being and then set the action in a fantasy world.

But my point is this. Does it really matter to the reader? When a reader walks into a bookstore or goes online to purchase a book, do they really ask themselves, “What do I want today? A fantasy? A paranormal?” Doubtful. For the most part, the reader simply wants a good book.

To learn about my books, please visit my website at www.beverlyrae.com.

Thanks,

Beverly Rae

I was a rotten kid. As a child I loved to torment my brothers and boss around the other kids on my block. As a result, I didn’t have many friends. (Yeah, I know. Sad, but I deserved it.)

That’s when I started making up my imaginary playmates. My first playmate was a boy named Larry. I adored Larry and took him everywhere I went. He would sleep in the imaginary bed across from mine. He would sit next to me at the dinner table. Heck, he even played softball, standing right next to me, although he was never a very good player.

Best of all, Larry was as rotten as I was. Larry was the culprit whenever my hand developed a mind of its own and thumped my brother in the head. Larry took the blame whenever I “accidentally” bumped a bowl full of vegetables off the table to scatter awful-tasting peas across the floor. Larry was with me, egging me on when I dropped water balloons off the roof onto unsuspecting neighbors. Larry was the one who made me stay up late and miss the school bus. Larry was, for all the wrong reasons, the perfect playmate.

Then I grew up and Larry went away. Or did he?

I love writing all the characters in my books, both good and bad. Heroes and heroines alike find a place in my heart. But I have to admit that the bad boys claim a special corner. Why? Perhaps it’s because each of my bad boys, whether or not they turn out to be the villain or the hero, has a part of Larry in him.

For instance, the three Cannon brothers in my Cannon Pack werewolf series are different, but they all have a bit of Larry thrown into their personalities. Jason Cannon has Larry’s uninhibited streak. Devlin Cannon has Larry’s witty sarcasm and Daniel Cannon is the guy who acts more calloused than he really is. In my latest book, CLAWED (Wild Things, Book 3), Conan is a bear (literally) of a man who takes on Larry’s habit of one-word answers. Like Larry, he’s stoic, aloof and sometimes downright rude. But in the end, Conan─again like Larry─will do anything for his girl.

So you see, Larry continues to live. Sure, he went away while I grew up and developed other interests. But when I wanted him again, when I became a writer and needed a bad boy, Larry came back to stay.

Now here’s the question for you. Since most of us have had an imaginary friend at one time or another, does your friend still live on in you? Is your friend by your side whenever you shake your head and answer, “I don’t know who did it”? If no, don’t you wish you had your imaginary friend back in your life?

Moms and Daughters

This past Mother’s Day got me thinking. Am I a good mom? I think I am. Really.

But don’t ask my daughter. I’m afraid of what she might say. Why? Because I’ve done horrible things to her? Because I’ve treated her worse than a stray dog? (Well, actually, I take in stray dogs so that reasoning doesn’t apply.) Or because I’ve beaten her with a belt every night?

Nope. Not a chance. Never happened.

Here’s the reason. I'm afraid she wouldn’t call me a good mom because…she’s a teenager.

I want to know what happened. I haven’t changed - much. I’m still the same old mom I was when she was ten years old, then eleven, then twelve. Yet something must have changed when she hit the magical age of thirteen. Or, if you listen to her, I changed.

Our relationship went off the edge of the road. Although I wouldn’t say our relationship is in the ditch yet, but the tires are running through gravel on the side of the highway and not on the road. She no longer comes up to me and hugs me for no reason. I don’t get the impromptu snuggle on the couch. Instead, I get one-word answers and eyes rolled in her head. Yep, she gives me teen-talk.

But am I worried? Will we ever get back the relationship we once enjoyed? I doubt it. Neither one of us will be the same person we are today. But that’s okay. I remember my own teenage years. I treated my own mom horribly. (Sorry, Mom!)

I know, however, that life has a way of evening things out. I know that my relationship with my own mother is now a wonderful, loving, friendship-type relationship. So I’m thinking, maybe mothers and daughters have to go through the teen years in order to come out on the other side as adult friends.

Keeping that theory in mind, whenever my daughter rolls her eyes or slams a door, I think of the future. We’ll have a solid relationship again one day. I know it.

Still, just in case we don’t, I’m hexing her with the same curse my mom put on me. Here goes.

“I hope you have a daughter just like you!”

Beverly Rae – http://www.beverlyrae.com/
Giggle, Gasp & Sigh with a Beverly Rae Romance


WAILING FOR LOVE - http://tinyurl.com/35hfxf (Rock star romance)

TOUCH ME - eBook at http://tinyurl.com/397k8j (Touch her and know your soul mate)
In Paperback at http://tinyurl.com/2zand4 (Amazon.com)

What Makes a Published Author?

When I began writing about seven years ago, one of the first things I heard was “Don’t publish with an e-Book publisher. That’s not really getting published.” At first, being a good newbie writer, I simply nodded and made a mental note to remember this sage advice. A year later, I’d dumped the advice and had my first book contracted with an e-Book publisher.

Did I do the right thing? Are there still writers, editors and others who feel that e-publishing isn’t really getting published? Answer: You bet ’cha there are. Having had both e-Books and print books published and, thus, seen both sides of the fence, I disagree with those who don’t believe an e-Book author is a “real author”.

Even with the growth of e-publishing in the world of literature, there are still those who don’t feel a writer is genuinely published until their signature has dried on a contract from one of the big New York publishers like Harlequin or Dorchester. To those people, having a contract and getting paid by an e-publisher doesn’t transform you from writer to published author. In fact, your contract doesn’t mean much more than a contract with a vanity or subsidy publisher.

So, I ask, what makes someone a published author? Here’s my criteria with which you may or may not agree.

A published author is someone who has:

Written and completed a manuscript whether it’s a big book or a short story.
Found a reputable publisher and signed a contract with said publisher.
Money is exchanged from publisher to author either directly or indirectly (via an agent or other representative) in the form of an advance on future sales or simply a percentage of current sales. Please note: The money should flow from the publishing house to the writer and never in the other direction. If a writer has to pay anything to a publisher to have the publisher print their book, then that’s a vanity/subsidy publisher and, in my opinion, no better than anyone having their work copied and bound at Kinko’s. (Again, my humble opinion. And again, you may or may not agree.) Exceptions are, of course, where an author may allow her work to be published without remuneration, but payment should never be made to the publisher.
Royalties, unless excluded as in the above example, must be outlined in the contract and have a timeline for payment. Although an advance may or may not be given, royalties are always paid on sales.
The book is edited by a reputable editor provided by the publisher and cover art is also provided by the publisher. Again, these are to be provided to the author at no cost.
The book is released for sales and available at distribution venues as defined in the contract. Exceptions again may be made for articles in professional magazines or in the educational publishing field.
The book is released either in e-Book or print format, or both.

In my opinion, that is what makes a person a published author.

Of course, an argument can and has been made stating that those writers who use a vanity or subsidy press can call themselves published authors. True, if they ordered and paid for enough copies, those writers could sell their books in one manner or another, either online or in bookstores. But to do so forgets about the work, the effort, the skill and the expertise that an established publisher gives to the work. The vanity or subsidy published author has no real publisher.

In my belief, if the standard of “published author” is lowered to anyone who can type, copy pages and then bind them together (or pay to have the work done), we lose the value associated with being a published author. When anyone and everyone can easily call themselves a published author, what purpose would there be for publishing houses? But for now, for my way of thinking, I’ll stick to the outline I gave above. To become a published author is a wonderful and exciting thing, and I’m proud to call myself a published author.

Beverly Rae – http://www.beverlyrae.com/
Giggle, Gasp & Sigh with a Beverly Rae Romance

eBook at http://tinyurl.com/397k8j
In print at http://tinyurl.com/2zand4 (Amazon.com)

Love Will Find a Way

Do you believe in love? Do you believe somehow, someway everyone will find love? I do and here’s why.

Okay, I admit it. I got desperate. I was a teacher working at a school without any prospects of finding a man. The teacher pool was devoid of any real masculinity and the school’s elderly janitor was starting to look good to me. In fact, the best the school had to offer was the lecherous vice-principal who was married to the gym teacher. Not exactly a girl’s idea of a dream date. The parent pool, unfortunately, wasn’t much better. Whenever a father showed up at a school function, he was either (1) getting a divorce because he’d gotten caught cheating on his wife or (2) willing to “give you a little lovin’” as long as the “wifey-poo” didn’t find out. Yep, my choices for a relationship were basically non-existent.

So as I said, I got desperate. I joined a dating newsletter. This newsletter was owned and operated by an older lady (I’ll call her Muriel) who personally met all her applicants. Although the number of available men would be limited more than with one of the major online matchmaking services, I figured she’d have a good shot of weeding out the homicidal rapists. So, with my heart on my sleeve, I joined up.

I have to admit that I loved it─at first. After all, I was one of the few women in the newsletter who had no children. The men in the organization loved the fact that I came without “baggage”. In fact, it wasn’t long before I received my first call for a date and subsequent calls followed that one. I was a hot commodity and enjoying every minute of it. Then Mike (His name has been changed to protect everyone involved.) called. After screening him with Muriel who assured me that he was “a great guy”, I agreed to meet him at a very busy local restaurant.

Mike was gorgeous. I almost fell out of my chair when he walked up to the table, introduced himself as my date and handed me a bouquet of flowers. The man was a living, breathing Adonis. Amazing, huh? Yep, amazing and way too good to be true. Not only did he have the looks, he had the talk. And the manners. And the dreamy bedroom eyes. As far as I could tell, I’d hit the dating lottery.

After great conversation over dinner, Mike invited me back to his place. Yeah, I know. Not a smart move on my part, but by this time, I’d been swept off my feet. So I agreed.

Mike, however, neglected to mention a few things. Like the fact that he still lived with his family. That’s right─his family. Mike didn’t live with only his parents, but also with grandpa and Mike’s two rather odd brothers, Tim and John. The brothers must’ve missed the gene pool signup because they looked like they were closer siblings to Neanderthal Man than to any homo sapiens walking the planet now. Before I realized what was happening, I was smack dab in the middle of a Weird Family Get Together. Little did I know─as I tried to breathe while they all took turns crushing the breath out of my body with bear hugs─that the night would only get worse. Naively, I believed Grandpa copping a feel was the worst I’d have to face.

Mike’s parents, who looked normal, were anything but normal. I realized this after Mike and I sat down on the sofa─as far away from Grandpa as I could get─and they proceeded to ask me if I liked snakes. No, nix that. They didn’t simply ask me if I liked snakes, they wanted to know if I worshipped snakes.

I should have high-tailed it out of there right then and there. But I was frozen to the spot. Had they really said what I thought they’d said? Or was this a family prank they liked to play on Mike’s dates? Logic and reality went to war in my head. Surely they didn’t mean what they’d said. Surely I’d misunderstood them. But the part of me that slows down to look at a car wreck had to know. So I asked them.

Their answers were to laugh and, in my confused state of mind, I chuckled with them. It had to be a joke. But then Mike took my hand as we all rose from our seats. Like a schoolgirl unthinkingly obeying the headmaster’s command, I followed him and his family into the next room.

Wow. How I wished I’d hooked up with the lecherous vice-principal.

Inside the adjacent room were statues, pictures, photographs and other representations of various kinds of snakes. Snake posters adorned the walls while outlines of snake heads glowed from the lampshades and reptile knickknacks covered the top of every piece of furniture. Even the curtains sported images of serpents. Yet that was nothing compared to the rest. As the first hiss sent chills racing down my backbone, I lowered my eyes to the floor and saw not one, not two, but five large snakes. I have no idea what kind of snakes they were, but they could’ve starred in a horror movie.

My scream died in my throat as John (Mike’s oldest and strangest brother) spurted an insane giggle and reached down to scoop up one of the larger snakes. After bestowing a kiss on the reptile’s nose (or whatever the end of their head is called), he began to wrap the thing around his body. I shuddered as Tim did the same with a different, even longer snake. Taking a step backward, I prepared to make a fast dash for the front door. Granted the neighborhood wasn’t the safest in town, but at that point, I’d have chosen a confrontation with street gang over hanging around with this loony family. But Mike had other ideas.

Just as I started to sprint, he took my hand again and compelled me to look into those bedroom eyes. But I wasn’t fooled any longer. I knew there was little else but crazy ideas in that handsome head of his

“Will you bow down and place yourself in their service?”

My mouth fell open as I tried to understand his words. “What? What the BLEEP did you say?” (I’ve cleaned up the language for this report).

“Will you show our Masters that you recognize their superiority and offer yourself to do their bidding?”

I blinked as I wondered how I could’ve been so terribly wrong about this guy. What did he expect me to do? French kiss them on their forks tongues? Hunt mice for them? How exactly does one do the bidding of a slithering reptile? At last, however, my mind snapped into gear and overcame my curiosity. “Are you BLEEP kidding me?” (I’m not normally a potty-mouth, but certain situations simply call for it).

It was then that I realized I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d made a crucial mistake. The entire family turned to face me and the looks on their faces were not pleasant. A scene from a slasher movie flashed through my mind and I gulped at the prospect of what might happen to me. If I didn’t worship the snakes, did that mean I’d become their next meal? “Uh, I mean, no thanks.” (Yeah, I know. Too little, too late.)

Mike, the gorgeous, courteous, wonderful dream date, had transformed from Hot Hunk to Mad Mike. “Are you disrespecting our gods?”

I stammered a moment, glancing around to find anything I could use to defend myself, and came up empty on both words and weapons.

Mike drew his body straighter, tossed me a tight condescending smile, and then reached down to pick up one of his “gods”. As he lifted the snake close to my face, fear finally found its way from my brain to my feet and I ran.

I heard Mike and his family calling for me to stop as I threw open the front door and ran out into the night. How I was going to get home didn’t concern me. All I wanted was to get away from this modern day reptile-loving cult as fast as I could. As I ran, I began thinking of the tongue-lashing I’d give Muriel.

The shouts coming from Mike and his family died out as I put distance between myself and them. After a few minutes of running in my heels, however, I felt safe enough to stop and ponder how I was to get home. You see, I’d left my purse with my cell phone and money inside on their sofa and there was no way I was going back to get it. They could keep everything I had. I’d gladly cancel credit cards and change locks rather than face them again. Still, alone and miles from my home, I had no option except to knock on a door in the strange and not-so-safe neighborhood.

When the door opened, I thought I'd once again won the lottery. Standing before me was the best-looking guy I'd ever seen. In fact, he made Mike look small and pitiful. But this time I was cautious. I accepted the use of his phone while standing outside on his porch and politely refused all offers to come inside. Yet by the time the cab had arrived to take me home, I was giving thanks for having gone out with Mike the Snake Lover. After all, if I hadn’t gone out with Mr. Loony-Tunes, I’d never have met Mr. Right. You see, although it wasn't an official "date", I'd already fallen for the man behind the door.

Two years later, we were married.



Beverly Rae – www.beverlyrae.com
Giggle, Gasp & Sigh with a Beverly Rae Romance


TOUCH ME - eBook at http://tinyurl.com/397k8j
In print 03/25/08 at http://tinyurl.com/2zand4 (Amazon.com)

WAILING FOR LOVE - Coming from Samhain Publishing 03/11/08

Guest Blogger: Beverly Rae

Would You Want A Power?

Carolan Ivey offered me this chance to guest blog and I was more than happy to accept the invitation. I’m a fan of Carolan’s and Beyond the Veil, as well as a fellow author. Like Carolan, I write paranormal romance although most of my books are the lighter, sexy, contemporary paranormals. However, I do stray into the dark side of paranormals every once in awhile, too.

I was thinking about what I’d like to write when one of my favorite television shows, Ghost Whisperer, came on the screen. As I watched this week’s ghost appear to the main character, I began to wonder. What would it be like to have a power like hers? Would I appreciate such a gift? Or would it be more of a curse? For that matter, what would it be like to have any kind of supernatural power?

Would you want such a power? Would you like to be a modern-day Nostradamus and see the future? How would you feel seeing dead people pop up in your living room right before the in-laws dropped by for a holiday dinner? Which makes me wonder…how does John Edward, a real psychic medium, handle parties? Do the other guests hit him up for readings like a doctor being asked for free medical advice? Does he walk into a room and have to immediately declare that he’s “tuned out” for the night for him to simply enjoy being a normal partygoer? Or does he accept the fact that he is the ultimate party favor?

I believe everyone at one time or another has wondered about having a super power. For instance, I remember wishing I was Samantha from the old Bewitched show when I found out that my best friend in high school had cheated with my boyfriend. Oh how I wanted to twitch my nose and turn her into an ant and him into an anteater! Thankfully for them, I was just plain ole me and couldn’t take supernatural revenge. But could I really handle the stress of seeing ghosts like the Ghost Whisperer does? Would I want my days interrupted by messengers from the Other Side? I don’t think so. I’d become a nervous wreck.

There are, however, certain powers I would love to have, while there are others I wouldn’t want even for a ton of money. Let’s take a look at a few.

Divination or Predicting the Future: Maybe it’s just the planner in me, but I’d love to see the future. I’m always making lists and goals, and it would make me incredibly happy to know all my efforts were going to pay off. If the future wasn’t as bright as I’d like, I’d still want to know so I could plan accordingly. Unlike a lot of people, I’d want to see the path ahead of me whether it’s a smooth walkway or a rocky road.

Speaking with the Dead: Uh-uh. This one is definitely not for me. I don’t like uninvited guests, even in living breathing forms, so I’m thinking a surprise visit from my neighbor’s Aunt Maud wouldn’t sit well with me, either. The Ghost Whisperer heroine and John Edward can keep this power all to themselves.

Invisibility: I can definitely see the practicality of this power. Think of all the gossip I could have by slinking around unseen. Other uses come to mind, too. Like gaining free access to a concert or never again worrying over a zit on my chin. Heck, I could do anything, go anywhere without getting dressed, much less worry about my hairstyle flopping.

Flying: This ability, I think, would depend on the specifics of the trip. Sure, it’d be great to fly on over to Hawaii, free of charge and with no delays, but what about luggage? Who can go anywhere without at least three pairs of shoes? So, if I had to choose, flying wouldn’t make the top of the powers list for me.

Super-Strength: As far as safety goes, I think this power would come in handy. I’d feel secure knowing I could take down any mugger and bring him to his knees. Plus, I could get rid of all those rubber grips I use to open jars.

Intuitive Psychic: In my book, TOUCH ME, my heroine has the ability to touch a person and name their soul mate. I chose this power for her because being able to help people find their true love appeals to me. I mean, what’s better than helping people find someone to share their life?

After going through some of my choices of possible super powers, I discovered something very exciting. In a way, authors do have a super power. Much like the intuitive psychic in my book, writers are helping people—albeit fictitious people—find love. Yet in doing so, we also take the reader into worlds of joy and affection, giving them a taste of what true love can be like. Next to having the power to touch someone and tell them the name of their soul mate, writing the stories where wonderful romance can happen is the next best thing.

Beverly Rae – http://www.beverlyrae.com/
Giggle, Gasp & Sigh with a Beverly Rae Romance