October test

 DRAFT VERSION

This month, I’m turning my blog over to a debut author, Sharon Michalove, author of the Global Security Unlimited series. She told me that:

I create stories full of romance, suspense, and mystery. Seasoned romance where love has no age limit. Stories that prove second chances can happen, enemies can become friends, and friends can become lovers. Stories that show no two happy endings are the same. And at the core of every story is love.

Let’s hear it from Sharon.

I grew up in suburban Chicago. I started reading on my own at four. Reading eventually made me want to write, primarily mysteries, because I read mysteries. I received four degrees from the University of Illinois because I didn't have the gumption to go anywhere else, and spent most of my career at the university. Eventually I earned a PhD, working in departmental administration, publishing and libraries. My specialties are 15th-16th century European history, polar exploration, and food history.

 
In graduate school, I met and married the love of my life. We shared a love of music, theater, travel and cats until his death in 2013. I also love hockey, reading, cooking, writing, and various less elevated activities like eating cookies and sampling gins and single malts.

 
After spending most of my life in a medium-sized university town she moved back to Chicago in 2017. I may be one of the few people in America to never live outside my home state. I will accomplish a lifetime goal by publishing my first novel this month.

 
As a teen, I wrote poetry, very bad poetry. My forays into fiction never got me farther than a chapter or two, but when I started my doctoral program at the age of 41, I started writing more. Of course that was all academic stuff. Finally, at age 67, I decided to try an novel, again. This time I was successful (after four complete rewrites) and my first novel, which is romantic suspense, will be my present to myself for my 70th birthday. 

Advice to writers

If you have a story to tell, go for it. Whatever genre you choose, read, learn, practice. Don’t expect success overnight. Make friends in the writing community. Find other writers to talk to about writing. Your nonwriting friends and family will get tired of hearing the day-to-day stuff but your writer friends will love sharing the struggles and small successes. Support other writers and they will support you. But most of all, start writing and keep writing.

 
If you want to write, the only way to get there is by writing. Age is not a barrier. Read a lot, in the genre you want to write in, but also read widely. Try to tease out how the book is put together. Think about what draws you in, why you want to keep reading to the end, and what you like and don’t like about the characters.

 
Join a professional association or two. Take classes. I finally started to learn about how to put a plot together by taking a class. Even if you are a pantser, you need to be able to figure out what works and what doesn’t work when it’s time to revise.

Books

My Global Security Unlimited series is romantic suspense.

Book one, At First Sight (Global Security Unlimited 1), which is available for preorder on Amazon in both ebook and print editions, will be released on October 22, 2021. I’m writing book two now, with a projected publication date in May 2022. I am also planning a mystery that I hope will come out later in 2022. I also have a couple of other series in mind, one is hockey romance and the other is rare book mysteries that will take place in London.

 

Writing Process

When I get ideas for books or series, I make a note, even if I don’t plan to write the book immediately. It’s the only way to keep the ideas from getting lost. Even if I don’t create a scene by scene plot in advance, I try to write down the main sequence so I have sort of an outline.

 
I always want to know the end of the book so I know what I am writing toward. I have a lot of trouble with openings, so I might start the book several times before I have the right place.

 
For character development, I use the Emotional Wound Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman and Rebecca Puglisi. Their One Stop for Writers and Writers Helping Writers websites are fantastic resources.

Agents  

I don’t have an agent. I pitched a few times and was asked to send manuscripts, but I usually had no follow up from the agent. I submitted twice to a digital first publisher and, while they rejected the book, they kept telling me to rewrite and resubmit so I knew my book wasn’t terrible. Then I was a semifinalist in a contest and decided on one more rewrite, sent the book to beta readers, then a copy editor, and I am self-publishing. Many of my romance writer friends have moved to self-publishing, even if they were traditionally published in the past. At my age, I really don’t want to wait years for my book to come out.

 
I decided to have my own imprint, Coffee and Eclair Books, although I am not planning on an LLC. I had both a developmental editor and a copy editor and both were great.

 

At First Sight (Global Security Unlimited 1) - Blurb

Oxford, England 1993. An awkward American grad student runs into a gorgeous English undergrad with her bicycle. She's embarrassed. He's intrigued. They go their separate ways, but neither forgets.

 
Chicago, Illinois 2013. When Cress Taylor starts receiving anonymous threats, the successful novelist feels her world crashing down. Max Grant turns up at a book signing and wants to renew their fleeting acquaintance. Is the timing coincidental or suspicious? Should she fall into his arms or run like hell? Then the plagiarism accusations start.

 
A former spy now working for a global security company, Max Grant has always steered clear of relationships-until now. When he sees Cress in a TV interview, his curiosity ignites. Will the spark he felt twenty years ago burst into flame? Cress is a magnet he can't resist. As threats escalate to physical danger, Max feels driven to protect Cress. They must learn to work together if they want to stop her nemesis and find their happy ending.

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1 Chicago, November 2013

I step off the private elevator on the fortieth floor of One Financial Plaza in my new shoes. New shoes—ridiculous, bright-red, three-inch stilettos. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, Everest. Maybe the best restaurant in Chicago. One of the thirty or forty best in the U.S. 

As I passed the store window, the shoes lured me in. My willpower collapsed like a condemned building. This is so not me. I’ve only had them a minute, and they’re cheese graters for feet.
A quick roll of my ankle on the slick granite floor reminds me why I don’t wear high heels. My arms splay and rotate like a windmill. The shopping bag that holds my serviceable flats and my small evening bag spins off my wrist. One shoe skids away. Crap, crap, crap. 

The brown kraft-paper bag is a missile that hurtles toward a man on his way to the restaurant entrance. My mouth opens in soundless warning as it speeds toward an invisible bullseye. 

Thunk. The bag bounces off his arm. 

My evening clutch pops out, wide open. Damn that broken clasp. Change rings against hard wood and granite, spraying in all directions. I drop to my knees and crawl after the quarters and pennies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him spin. A frown twists lush lips. 

“You all right?” A foot in a brogue polished within an inch of its life rests a millimeter from my fingers as I reach for more coins. A shoe, a red shoe, is in his hand. 

“Lost something?” He holds it out to me. His rich British accent sends a prickle down my spine. I tip my head up to give him a quick once-over. 

A spark flashes through eyes that remind me of a walk on the beach in winter. A face bisected by a high-bridged aristocratic slash of a nose. My face tingles. The tips of my ears are warm. I grab the shoe, drop it on the floor, and hide my face in my hands. “Fine. Sorry. I lost my balance and the bag escaped.” My fingers muffle the sound. 

He starts to bend down. His hand brushes my ear. 

Zap. I scoot backward. 

He straightens up and shakes his hand. “Pins and needles.” 

With effort, I wrench my focus back to the coins. My good luck charm, a Victorian black opal pendant I bought when my first book sold, slides back and forth against the sanded silk of my shabby chic little black dress. Streaks of fire reflect off the granite floor as it swings. I brush stray discs into the pile. 

“Just trying to help.” 

“I can manage. Thanks, though.” 

A loud male voice calls out, “Hey, Max. Get in here.” 

“Half a mo’.” 

I wave him off. “Your friends want you.” 

“But…” 

“I’ve got this.” “Sure?” 

“Yeah. Go on.” 

He straightens, turns, walks into the restaurant. 

I stare at his back in the perfect gray suit. The color matches his eyes.