Hi All. Today we have guest blogger Wendy Ely. Make sure to leave your email when you comment to be entered in a drawing to get an autographed post card. The drawing will be held Tuesday and that's when I'll release the winners name. Good Luck!!
~Let the World Inspire you
One of the most asked questions since I have so many projects going at once is: Where do I get my ideas for novels? If you want the short answer, I get them from everywhere.
Some times the idea will come from personal experience but it’s rare. I started writing Jesse’s Brother after I’d started dating two very different men. I was out on a date with one while the other called on my cell. Lucky for me, the date was in the bathroom at the time. I started thinking how bad things could get and before I knew it, Jesse’s Brother arrived. By the way, the guys I’d been dating weren’t either men from the book and certainly weren’t brothers.
Weren’t you taught that eavesdropping was rude? What about staring at people in public? I know I was! Even so, these two things are great in finding ideas. Eating out alone? Pick a table by a group of people and just listen to what they say. You might hear some great stories! People love to talk about themselves. I had a writing assignment for one of my creative writing classes last semester involving people watching and recording details about them. I quickly learned that a mall food court is like a buffet for any writer. Jot down your discoveries!
Read! I’m not talking about books from your favorite novelist either. Read the newspaper (or watch the news!) and magazines. Look for interesting stories and I bet it would make a good plot. I just found something interesting the other day. Upon Jesse’s Brother’s release I set up Google Alerts so I would know if a post was made about the book. Now I get an email from news stories or blogs featuring the words but has nothing to do with my book. Annoying? Not to me! Interesting things are being emailed to me that’ll make a great plots. I wonder what I’ll get when I do Confessions!
Play the ‘what if’ game while doing your errands. While you’re at the grocery store or walking the dog, think of every possible thing that could happen. Make a list. You never know when an idea will spark!
Once I get all of these ideas, I jot them down in a composition book so when I need an idea, I have a full supply. So tell me about how you get your ideas? Any weird or interesting thing happen to you to inspire a story or book? Share! I’d love to hear about it.
One woman, two men: a single summer to choose between them.
Sacrificing a summer to fix her relationship with her mother and find out what’s troubling her father isn’t so bad...right? Wrong. Or so Samantha learns upon her return to Portland.
As if family drama wasn’t bad enough, first comes Noah. Then comes Jesse. Samantha is torn between the way her heart skips a beat each time Noah looks at her, and the way Jesse’s touch make her yearn for more.
Noah stabbed the pitchfork into the hay, trying to get a head start on tomorrow's chores and Samantha out of his thoughts.
He always returned to his trailer once the sun went down. He'd had the same routine every night for the last year: work until dark, then home for dinner and a shower. Blue and a good book made great company as far as he was concerned.
Martin didn't care when Noah ended work for the day as long as he met the day's goals and took care of the animals. Any night of the week, he could have hung around town meeting new people and scored a date or two. There was even talk about a few of the local women being interested in him. He, for sure, noticed the attention, sometimes even heard the whispers amongst the women as he walked by. Most men liked having their egos stroked, but it actually did the opposite for him. As a result, he stayed away from town as much as possible. It gave him an incentive to follow the same routine he'd stuck to for the past three hundred sixty-five nights.
Not tonight, however. Tonight he had met Samantha Johns, and needed to work off the impact she had made on him.
When he'd just finished feeding the animals earlier, he'd spotted her sitting up against the fence. Her tears had done him in when she raised her pretty blonde head to reveal the sadness in her beautiful blue eyes. She'd tried to push the tears away before he spotted them but it had been too late. Her tear-streaked face had been a spear to his heart. He wasn't sure why, but he had to help rid her of the pain she'd carried around.
After walking out of his family's life, he'd avoided relationships of any kind. He'd loosened up a bit, working on the ranch. Martin had become a role model to him, but Noah didn't want to care about anyone else. Not even Samantha. Now he knew her story and wanted to be in her life. It was terrible to be totally alone and Samantha didn't deserve to be.
"Damn it!" He threw a bale of hay onto the barn floor. "Why did she have to come here?"
Frances, Samantha's mother, had shown up in the barn a few days before to give him a subtle warning to stay away from her daughter. He didn't pay any mind to the idea of Samantha being around the farm and hadn't even asked any questions about her. He'd shrugged and turned back to his work. He was surprised she hadn't been more like queen bee Frances, ready to sting anyone within arm's length. Even though he'd heard stories about her childhood from Martin, he'd never once fathomed the idea that Samantha Johns would indeed be beautiful with those freckled cheeks and dimples. And the added bonus? She was equally sweet.
Samantha's presence could become a complication in his well maintained life. He didn't need any extra hurdles. Lord knew he'd had enough of those along the way. Getting involved with someone was complicated enough, but with the boss's daughter? Probably not a good idea. The fact that Frances hated the very air he breathed made the situation worse.
"I never take the easy road," he grumbled as he wiped the sweat trickling down his cheek. What was Samantha doing now? His eyes switched over to the door. It would be nice if she'd come down to the barn.