Romance novelists have special problems normal people never have to deal with.
People are people, and let’s face it: a lot more of us are looking for love than are looking for the meaning of life.
When I spend eight to twelve hours immersed in the story, I can separate myself from reality and live the life of my characters.
You can’t trust the facts you learn in fiction. But stories uncover emotional truths far better than any history book.
I’ve always loved John Irving’s books–especially The World According to Garp and A Prayer for Owen Meany. His stories feel wonderfully complete, progressing inexorably and almost divinely from the opening sentence to the final thought. Now I know why. According to Off the Page: Writers Talk about Beginnings, Endings, and Everything in Between by Carol […]
Names in novels are never arbitrary.
Well, I went in. Deep, deep inside the bowels of my latest novel. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out. The problem lay in the heart of the book: my protagonist. She seemed a little flat, like a singularly untalented actress I’d sent onstage to play out the machinations of the plot. I’d directed […]
I wanted to kill my third novel.