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It’s My Birthday . . . Again!

June 15, 2018 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster, Writing tagged as birthday, gifts, giveaway, links, Memories, writing, writing craft

My birthday is June 16. I only know it’s my birthday because my husband keeps reminding me of the date, asking me what I want, and telling me we should celebrate. He has to do this because, in my family, I am legendary for not remembering birthdays. I forget my sister’s birthday even though we were born on the same day but fourteen years apart. My birthday piggybacks Father’s Day, too. I remember Father’s Day because there are lots of TV commercials for steaks, tools and aftershave. Rebecca’s birthday? Not so much.

There is also the matter of age. After the shock of the first AARP envelope at forty, the assisted living brochures at fifty and the burial at sea pitches when I turned sixty, I started taking birthdays in stride. Seriously, there isn’t much that can surprise me anymore on the aging score.

Lest you think me a birthday Scrooge, let me share the one thing I love about birthdays. I love the memory of them. When I was a little girl my mom threw awesome birthday parties for my brothers and sisters and me. I was number two in a six-pack and birthdays were celebrated with the neighborhood kids, balloons and a big homemade cake. In the backyard, we played tag, hide-and-seek and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. There were prizes for the winners but everyone went home with a gift bag. Even at my own birthday party it was that little gift bag I treasured most. I adored that there was always more than one thing: a couple pieces of candy, a silly toy that would break a day later, a paper crown. This bag was a treasure hunt, something unexpected, some thing that, in those lean days, mom would never buy just because. Those parties taught me that unexpected gifts can be the best things in the world.

So, in honor of my mother and the memories of those wonderful parties, I would like to give you a gift. Before Her Eyes is a thriller that will hopefully keep you up at night, but it’s also a very personal story, written when both my dad and my father-in-law were ill. It is a gift of my craft and a little bit of me thrown in to boot and it’s all wrapped up in the memory of a child’s party.

ClaimBefore Her Eyes here until July 1:

https://dl.bookfunnel.com/7tlkgv8nou

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What a Dog: why you need a pet in your book

May 15, 2018 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster tagged as Animals, cops, Craft, Finn O'Brien Thrillers, Pets, police procedural, The Witness Series, thrillers, writing craft

My granddog Tucker & Max roll model

Today a lady wrote to tell me she loved my book Hostile Witness* because I hadn’t killed Max. I’ve been traveling a lot in the last few weeks and it took me a minute to figure out who Max was and why it was so important to her that he was alive. Max, of course, is Josie Bates’ dog; Josie is the heroine of the Witness Series. The reader’s concern for Max made me wonder why a book that includes an animal is richer, more entertaining, and more engaging than one without?

The answer is simple. Pets provide a natural assist in plot, dialogue and emotional content.

Max-the-Dog (his legal name) was originally created as a reflection of Josie Bates, his mistress. Both Max and Josie had been abandoned, had to fight for their lives, and were protective of others. As the series unfolded, though, Max became so much more than Josie’s mirror. Here are four ways Max contributed to the success of the Witness Series:

Max kicked up human action/reaction: Those who attack him were inherently more evil than a bad guy who ignored him. Those who love Max were more admirable because they cared for and protect him.

Max was a great listener:Internal dialogue can be tedious. However, speculation, rhetorical questions, or monologues sound natural when directed at pets.

Max changed the tone: A scene tone can be set by the way a human character speaks to or interacts with an animal counterpart. A whispered warning creates a much different tone than a screaming command; a languid pet conjures up different visions than a playful ruffling of fur.

Max moved the plot forward:An animal’s needs can change a human character’s trajectory. In Privileged Witness, when Josie takes Max out for his evening constitutional they find her fugitive client hiding outside. Without Max, Josie would have no reason to go outside and never would have discovered her client. An animal’s heightened senses can also warn of danger or alert a human to a change in their surroundings without the scene seeming forced.

From The Hound of the Baskervilles to Lassie and Blue Dog, My Friend Flicka and The Black Stallion, The Cheshire Cat and Puss-in-Boots, animals have frolicked as humans, served to reflect human frailties and strengths, and just plain worked their way into reader’s hearts.

So, to the kind lady who was concerned about Max, have no fear. He will never come to a violent end. No matter what happens to him, his presence or lack thereof, will be a decision motivated by story and plot and, of course, love. Max has sat at my psychic feet with every Witness Series book.

* Sign up for my spam-free newsletter and get Hostile Witness and the Spotlight Novella, Hannah’s Diary, FREE. Or get Hostile Witness FREE at your favorite online bookstore.

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If you like a cop with a brogue and an attitude try the new Finn O’Brien Thrillers! Severed Relations is FREE!

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The Unromantic Romantic

February 15, 2018 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster tagged as author, romance, romance genre, romantic, thrillers, writing, writing craft

Early in my career, when I was writing romance and women’s fiction, a bookseller, who I greatly admired, commented that my idea of romance was a chuck on a man’s shoulder. The other authors gathered in her store for a book signing laughed – and so did I. She was right in context of the romance genre. I was never comfortable writing love scenes or covering my ‘author lens’ with gauze. I didn’t care for characters having long involved conversations about their relationships. It never occurred to me to have brooding heroes or pining heroines. I was less interested in cupid, than I was in the arrow he shot and, I suppose, that is why I write thrillers now.

However, that does not mean I am unromantic. Why? Because in each of my books I take great care with character relationships, character’s moral core, their willingness to take chances and their curiosity about their mysterious world. To convince myself I was correct in believing these attributes to be romantic, I looked up the definition. Here you go, straight from Meriam/Webster:

Romantic: marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious or idealized.

In other words, romance for one heart might carry an emotional connotation that leads to a sexual encounter or a committed relationship. For my heart, romance is embodied in how characters react to challenge. As a thriller writer I want my reader to feel the romance of suspense, of mystery, of the idealization of a hero who will walk through fire to make things right.

I find John McClane in Die Hard, Indiana Jones in any of the Indiana Jones movies, romantic and yet you never see them in sexual situations. The focus of these movies is on action within a mysterious world. The romantic in me sighs over their heroics, my heart beats faster at their commitment to justice and the place of honor in which they put women while also treating them as equals in adventure.

Whether you are an author or are a reader, do not pigeonhole the idea of romance. If you do, you will be limiting your talent and your reading enjoyment.

This Valentine’s Day, I hope cupid brought you candies and flowers. In the next year, I wish you a different kind of romance; the kind that take you to exotic, mysterious and adventurous places in your imagination.

XOXO,

The unromantic romantic

USA Today and Amazon bestselling author, Rebecca Forster is the author of over 38 novels including the acclaimed The Witness Series and her new Finn O’Brien Thriller series. She is married to a Superior Court judge and is mother to two sons.

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DEVILISHLY GOOD DETAILS

January 15, 2018 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster tagged as Craft, creativity, inspiration, movies, process, Storytelling

Yesterday my husband and I decided to inaugurate the MoviePass cards our son gave us for Christmas. With one swipe (and $10 a month) we can see as many movies as we like at any theater.

Our first movie would be The Post at our local theater. It took both of us, and the manager, to figure out how to make the card work (which in hindsight should not have been necessary if we understood our phone settings). Finally, we swiped our cards only to find that The Post was sold out. That pushed us to our default selection: any movie that was not sold out. We ended up in a nearly empty theater watching Jumanji, the 20-year-later sequel to Robin William’s wonderful movie by the same name.

Jumanji is a fanciful action-adventure movie about a game that sucks people into an alternate universe and in order to get home, the player must win the game. In William’s version, he was the only one who disappeared. This version has an ensemble cast that includes The Rock, Jack Black and two other actors we weren’t familiar with but who were perfectly cast.

The movie began, the music was ominous, the set up delightful, the locations beautiful and the direction energetic. The kids in the theater reacted with oohs, aahs, and other exclamations of delight.

Oh, wait! That was me oohing and aahing!

Yep, I loved every bit of that movie and when I got home I realized the reason I loved it was because I lost myself in the storytelling. Everyone from the screenwriter to the lighting guy and cast was on board with the creative vision. The premise was quickly and clearly established. Casting was based on character and not on what looks that the producers deemed ‘sexy and salable’. The computer-generated stunts did not overpower the story nor did they last so long that the viewer could literally leave, have dinner and come back and they would still be crashing about on screen. If something fantastic happened – like characters dying and getting shot into space and suddenly falling back to earth again without injury – the viewer accepted it because it quickly became apparent that each piece of this story had a purpose. There was always a payoff that made sense. Threads were wrapped up at the end. The story built to a conclusion and didn’t present it. But better than anything, the actors never broke character. The adult actors were asked to channel their teenage counterparts in the real world that had been left behind. I have seen this transference in movies before but too often the adult actor simply remains an adult. The last time I saw this plot point beautifully executed was in Tom Hanks’s Big.

So, here’s what I want you to do. Before you write another word, before you start editing, go see Jumanji. It is one of the best lessons in pitch-perfect storytelling I’ve had in a very long time. As for me, I’m going back to work and give my manuscript the Jumanji treatment because the devilish details are what make for a heavenly story.

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Monty Hall & Me by Rebecca Forster @Rebecca_Forster

October 15, 2017 by Rebecca Forster in category The Write Life by Rebecca Forster, Writing tagged as children, Family, game shows, inspiration, life choices, Life Lessons, Monty Hall, television, writing inspiration

“This is a story about Monty Hall, the velvet-voiced, handsome host of Let’s Make a Deal. He passed away recently and it broke my heart because Monty Hall and I had a history.

I was a little depressed after I had my first baby and longing to get back to ‘the real world’ when I saw an ad: be a contestant on Let’s Make a Deal. Contestants were supposed to dress up as something funny but there was nothing funny about a postpartum mommy body so I went for the sympathy angle. I cut up a crib mobile made of fabric hearts, sewed the hearts onto a white hat and made a sign that said: HAVE A HEART, LET’S MAKE A DEAL. The neighbor watched the baby and I drove to Hollywood where two hundred people were lined up against a chain-linked fence outside the studio. They were dressed like alligators, killer clowns and French maids. I joined the fray just as a young producer trolled the line, pointing at people.

“You. You. You. That’s it for today. Come back another time.”

OMG! He didn’t pick me. There I was literally wearing my heart – okay, not on my sleeve – but all over me. I threw myself at him. I grabbed his sleeve. I begged.

“I NEEEEDDDDDD TO GET IN THAT STUDIO! I JUST HAD A BABY.”

He let me in.

Once inside, the producers advised us to make eye contact with Monty Hall. Check. No matter where he went my eyes bored into him. He itched, he freaked, he couldn’t figure out where the laser points of focus were coming from and he kept looking for the source. Then he saw me the crazy, desperate lady in the white hat with dancing hearts on it. I think he chose me just to make me stop glaring at him. I got all the way to the big deal and lost, but that was fine. My consolation prize was a two-week trip to the Bahamas and a thousand dollars. I went home happy. Monty Hall probably went home and had nightmares for weeks.

Fast-forward 32 years. Monty Hall is sitting behind my family and me in the theater. He is a little stooped, silver-haired, but still handsome. When my family goes to stretch their legs, I introduce myself and tell him the story that has become a legend in our family. He is gracious. He chats with me until the house lights dim. Before we take our seats, he asks:

“How old is the baby now?” As if on cue, my thirty-two-year-old son walked down the aisle. They shook hands. The house lights went down. We all watched the end of the play. I gave my son’s hand a squeeze. Life was good.

As if on cue, my thirty-year-old son walks down the aisle. They shake hands. The house lights go down. We watch the end of the play. I give my son’s hand a squeeze. Monty Hall walks out of the theater ahead of us and I never see him again.

The moral of the story is this: choose a door, any door but choose. What is behind that door will be exciting or surprising, charming or even challenging, but you will be better for turning the knob.

Monty Hall was behind two of my life’s doors. He made me feel lucky once and honored the second time. TY Monte Hall. I know that the door that opened for you not so long ago will be the biggest deal of all and you deserve that heavenly prize.

P.S. That is not me in the picture.

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