Today's Very Special Guest, Romance Author, Ginger Simpson!

Good Morning Readers,

Please make welcome, the amazing, Miz Ginger Simpson. Ginger's a very special friend of mine and I am so honored to have her for my guest today. This is one busy woman. Not only is she a  wife, mother, grandmother, but a prolific author, and has a fantastic blog, Ginger's, Dishin' It Out! No one should miss this lady's blogging. Please leave a comment for the lady who taught me so much about writing!

ARGHHHH! Rules, schmules. I'm so sick of trying to figure out what's right and what's wrong in writing fiction. You know, you can carry this rule thing too far and totally change your voice and writing style. What's even worse is when you belong to a critique group and constantly get conflicting opinions. Who do you trust?

Actually, I trust everyone. Each person has an individual talent and style, and perhaps write in a way totally different than mine. Isn't that what we want? Variety is the spice of life, so I've been told, but when it comes to mainstream or finding an agent, it almost seems like we're expected to fit our stories into the same confining box as all the rest of the authors.

I've been a "serious writer" since 2000, and almost weekly, I feel like someone throws a new rule into the mix. Now, I'm supposed to limit the times I use "it". Rather than making the reader guess what "it" is, use a hard noun. Okay...I see the logic, but there are just some instances where "it" works.

And of course, the "was" is passive rule. Try to eliminate using using "was" as much as possible, and definitely not with a gerund. Well, I like gerunds and I refuse to eliminate them. I will minimize using "was" if I can think of something else, but I'm not going to burn brains cells over something so trivial. (I lied...can you smell the smoke?) I was so paranoid over passive voice after one editing session, that I changed anything that sounded the least bit passive, and the writing became so stilted and stiff, the story sounded ridiculous. We have to leave room for author style. And do readers really count how many "it" and "was" instances are in each chapter? I doubt it.  

The newest, and something that makes most sense to me is avoiding phrases that tell the reader who is doing the seeing, hearing, feeling, sensing, when that's already been established by the POV from which the story is being told.  If we're in Jane's POV, the reader assumes Jane has control of the story in that instance.  Rather than saying Jane watched, or Jane listened, just using sentences such as, The bird on the branch outside the window twittered a melodious song, complimenting the sunrise.  If we're in Jane's POV, we can be sure she hears it.  :)  It's amazing how many words you can cut from your story or scenes if you avoid the obvious.  I think this falls under the old RUE (Resist The Urge to Explain) rule. 

Not to knock those who write medical romance, but a few years back, I reviewed HQ Medical Romance for one site, and the books eventually became so predicable, I felt as though I was playing "insert a new name here and locale here." You can't blame the authors. They have forced to follow guidelines of what ALL readers supposedly want.

Hey, I may write, but I read too, and I'm tired of the same "cake-mix" plots. Add a new character and stir the pot. You can add a few more nuts or some food coloring, but you still come out with a cake.  I'm thrilled with e-publishers who allow authors to think outside the box.  Don't ban adultery because it might offend the sensibility of snobbish people who refuse to see the percentage of our population who engage in affairs.  Realize that sometimes, even mistakes can be a learning experience that bring a hero and heroine back together.

While some people are making New Year's resolutions and setting their goals,  I'm trying to fit more more rule into the continuing roster of do and don't do in my head. I need a shoehorn.

How about sharing some rules here that have you confused. 

In the meantime, let's see if I've avoided most of these ghoulish rules in my 2011 release, First Degree Innocence.  Here's a blurb, followed by excerpt from a scene where Carrie is getting to know her new cellmate Susanna, a bit better:

Carrie Lang’s sheltered life ends with a prison sentence and lands her smack dab in the middle of an evil retribution plan concocted by the prison bully against another inmate.  Arrested on the one day she calls in sick, Carrie has no one to verify her story.  A supposed eye-witness describes her down to the make and model of her car.  Her ten-year sentence seems mild compared to being threatened with death for being an unwilling participant in an outlandish scheme.  Can she find a way out of her horrible nightmare, or are the cold gray prison walls her destiny?

Scene from Chapter Three:

Carrie finished making her bed and crawled onto it.  She hung her head over the side, peering in at Susanna, buried in the darkness of her own little cavern.  “You seem to know all the quirks in this place.  If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here?”

Susanna ran her hands through her hair.  “Seems like I’ve been here forever, but it’s only been three years.  You might say I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I made the mistake of hooking up with a guy who had a drug problem.”

“That’s too bad.  I can’t imagine doing drugs. I don’t even like to take an aspirin.”

“He didn’t just do them.” Susanna chuckled.  “He sold them.”

Carrie flinched at her cellmate’s casual attitude.  “Did you know—?”

“Of course I knew,” Susanna snapped.  “It just didn’t matter to me.  I thought he was the love of my life. But when the cops raided our apartment, he so gallantly pointed the finger at me and said I was the one dealing.”  Bitterness accented her every word.

“That just sucks.  Couldn’t you prove differently?”

Susanna rolled her eyes.  “It didn’t matter.  I was an accessory and, as far as the judge was concerned, as guilty as Doug.  I only wish I could forget the look on his face when I testified against him.”  She released a long exhalation. “Can you believe I still cared about him after what he did?”

“It appears we both got screwed.  I still can’t believe I’m in prison.”   The blood rushing to her hanging head made Carrie dizzy.  She sat up, plumped her laundry bag, then curled into a fetal position and settled onto the mesh pillow.

“What did you do to attract the long arm of the law?”  Susanna’s voice drifted from below.

Carrie sighed.  “Maybe you’ll be the one person who believes it wasn’t me driving the getaway car.”

  “I took the day off from work because I had horrible cramps.” The fateful day replayed itself in her mind as she told the story one more time.  “Dr. Phil had just come on TV and I was minding my own business, curled up on the couch with a heating pad.  All of a sudden someone pounded on the door, and when I answered, a guy in a suit standing in front of two uniformed officers, shoved a piece of paper in my face and stormed inside.  It was a warrant for my arrest.”   She took a deep breath.  “I didn’t even have a chance to change my tampon before they handcuffed me then made me sit and watch while they tore up my apartment, looking for the stolen bank money.  I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.”

“So then what happened?” Susanna pressed.

“Of course they didn’t find any cash because there wasn’t any, at least other than the few measly bucks in my purse.  I couldn’t make them believe I had nothing to do with robbing a bank.”

“How come they thought it was you?”

“To make a long, sad story short, I live alone and had no one to swear to my whereabouts.  The only thing my boss was able to tell them was that I called in sick. A supposed eye witness reported a description matching mine and, unfortunately for me, a car identical to the one I drive. Bank security footage had a foggy image of a woman behind the wheel, and I couldn’t convince them it wasn’t me.”  The old frustration welled Carrie’s eyes with tears.  She wiped them on her sleeve.

Susanna appeared at eye level.  “Shit! That must have been horrible for you.” 

“You have no idea.  Sitting in that courtroom and listening to the state’s attorney convince twelve people who didn’t know me from Adam that I was a felon… It was the most frustrating thing I’ve ever been through.  Knowing my innocence, I never in a million years thought they would believe him… at least I prayed they wouldn’t.”

“Was your car traced to the scene?”

“No. I told you I was at home.  My car was parked right in front of my apartment all day, and I’m the only one who has a key. If anybody from the building noticed, they refused to get involved.  The man who testified against me only remembered the first letter of the license.  Of course it had to be the same as mine.  But how many friggin’ cars have M on their plate?  You see why I thought I would never get convicted on such flimsy evidence?”

“You must have hired a pretty crummy lawyer to end up here for such a petty charge.” Susanna made a clucking noise with her tongue.

“It might have been a petty charge if a bank guard hadn’t lost his life in the process.  And as to my attorney…I didn’t have the money, so the court appointed one.  I would have fared just as well on my own.  It took every penny I had in savings to bail myself out of jail between the time I was arrested and tried.”

“Couldn’t someone have helped you?”

“Who?  I don’t have anyone.  I haven’t lived here long enough to make friends, other than the people I work with on a daily basis.  But I swear to you, Susanna, on my mother’s grave, I really am innocent.”

Before Susanna could ask any more questions, an unfamiliar guard appeared at the cell door.  “Okay, ladies, time for rec.”  The thin, red-headed woman glanced at her wristwatch.  “Enjoy your two hours.”  The sentiment was friendly but her tone wasn’t.

 Her key clicked the lock and she swung the door wide.  “Show your new friend to our playroom.” She sneered at Susanna.

Carrie was about to pass on the outing when Susanna gestured. “C’mon.  It’ll do you good to get some fresh air.”

That did sound inviting. Clambering down from the bunk, Carrie stepped into her shoes and followed closely behind.  When she caught up with Susanna in the hall, she tapped her on the shoulder.  “What about that… that…Jet person?” she whispered.

Susanna patted her hand.  “You’re with me. Her MO is to divide and conquer, so stay close like I warned you.  You’ll be fine.”

The freckled-faced guard unlocked the recreation room door and let them inside. The place was large with vaulted ceilings, a shiny cement floor and tables lining three cinderblock walls. The smell of Pinesol hung heavy in the air.  Nearby, a pair played dominos, while across the room a foursome played cards.  At the far end, a row of lounge chairs held inmates engaged in reading.  A cart filled with books sat nearby. Six more identical seats held orange-clad prisoners engrossed in a familiar soap opera, but immediately all eyes focused on Carrie.  It was like being back on the witness stand.  Their curiosity satisfied, the inmates went back to what they were doing. 

She took a deep, calming breath until she heard the distinct click of the door lock.  

If you'd like to read more, First Degree Innocence, published by Books We Love is available on Amazon and at a ridiculously low price.

I also invite you to visit my two blogs:

http://mizging.blogspot.com

http://CowboyKisses.blogspot.com

and come visit my website: http://www.gingersimpson.com

Thanks to my hostess for allowing me time and space on her blog.  My one resolution for this new year is to have more Tabcon in it. :)