Bad Romance

Adventures in editing.

As I wait (still!) for answers from the second agent to whom I posed questions regarding the querying potential of my self published novel series, I have been keeping busy revising and editing the second book in the collection. Meanwhile, the fifth Bucks County Novel: Breaking Bread, has been in the hands of my beta readers for feedback. My backup plan is to pitch this book if the others in the series are untouchable, with the hope that if this one book catches an agent’s eye, then it might open the door for the other titles. 

My beta team is made up of 3 women and 2 men. Overall, reaction to the story was good. But like some of you who read it here on the blog, two of the beta readers thought the romance was lacking something. One of the women and one of the men agreed with some of the comments I received from you, my blog readers, that there wasn’t great chemistry between the couple. My male beta reader said it didn’t ‘sparkle’ the way the romances of the previous novels did. Obviously, I have some revising to do.

I admit to not feeling the romance between Maya and Brad myself, but I’m at a loss as to how to fix it. Does it need more tension? More heat? (FYI, I don’t write sex in my stories so it has to stay in the PG-13 realm. The four previous books were free of it and the romances worked without it.) Do they need more interpersonal communication? Or perhaps more internal dialogue to reveal what they are thinking about each other? Every romance needs an issue to resolve, something that prevents the couple from falling for each other immediately. After all, where’s the fun in that? 

I gave Maya and Brad two main issues work out. The first is that they’ve known each other as friends ever since they were kids. There is a history there that prevents Maya from seeing Brad as anything but her best friend’s brother. Although Brad has had feelings for Maya all those years, she never had any clue, nor were they reciprocated. Now as an adult, she has to begin to see Brad in new light: as an attractive man she could find love with in an entirely different way.

The second issue is that Brad has inherited a whole truckload of money and he wants to spend it on Maya. However, Maya is fiercely independent as a result of having no support either emotionally or materially from her family. She refuses his help even in little ways. It’s extremely frustrating for both of them. I thought… I thought… I addressed it pretty well about halfway in. 

Or maybe, just maybe…. the romance has to go.

Maybe I’m really not cut out to write romance. I may have exhausted my reserves with the other stories and I don’t have anything left to give these two. And I refuse to recycle the kind of thing I’ve already written. With some ruthless editing, I could still have an exciting mystery and the romance could just go away. Brad stays in Boston with his job and his friends and never even makes an appearance. Maya still has Olivia and Juan Paolo and Detective Jack Staley for company and finding love is not part of this novel. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it?

Any ideas, my friends?

Header image: Lady Gaga, video screen shot Bad Romance

Roll The Bones

A short story by Meg Sorick, adding to the collection…

Gina wasn’t a gambler. She was a meticulous planner. Thus she was nearly sick with anxiety as she emerged from the airport shuttle in front of the Luxor Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. This was the last place on earth she would have chosen for this meeting. Actually, that she’d agreed to this meeting at all was unthinkable. Nevertheless, here she was. She told herself that it only made sense, since Las Vegas was halfway for both of them and the airfare and hotel room were more than reasonable.

Taking a deep calming breath, she lifted her rolling suitcase from the shuttle to the sidewalk. She had overpacked for a mere weekend getaway, but she wanted to be prepared for every possible scenario. Her heart skipped a beat when she imagined the inevitable outcome of any of those scenarios —it gave her such a thrill.

After collecting her key card at the reception desk, Gina took the elevator to the forty-second floor. Her hands were shaking as she swiped the key. He said he would leave word. She wasn’t sure what that meant. As nervous as she was, she was also excited. She wanted this badly. Very badly. It had been way too long…

The room faced east, away from the setting sun. It was cool and quiet —the only noise coming from the air conditioning unit beneath the window. She took a moment to marvel at the view, with the lights coming on all over the City of Sin —how appropriate. She turned and for the first time noticed the bouquet of red roses on the dresser. A small white envelope was attached. She opened the note and read, “Meet me in the casino at nine. I’ll be rolling the bones.”

Rolling the bones. A dice game. Gina knew she should’ve done more research on gambling. That would have been the logical thing to do. But nothing about this trip, this rendevouz, was logical. When she got to the casino she would have to ask about the dice games or else she’d be wandering aimlessly all night.

After showering and dressing in the simple but elegant dress she had bought especially for their first meeting, she applied perfume in strategic places, wound her glorious hair into a twist, added her diamond drop earrings and a swipe of burgundy lipstick. Then, with just a little liquid courage enabled by raiding the mini bar, she returned to the ground floor in the elevator.

When the doors opened, it was onto a carnival scene —the lights and sounds of slot machines and roulette wheels. Statuesque cocktail waitresses in impossibly high heels circulated with drinks for the gamblers. Gina spotted one with an empty tray and stopped her to ask about games played with dice. The waitress smiled benignly, amused at her apparent naivety, but directed her to the craps tables on the far side of the vast expanse.

As Gina wound her way through the throng of tipsy revelers, her eyes scanned the faces for one familiar. Familiar to her at least from viewing it in cyberspace. Eventually, she spotted her goal. The craps tables were equally populated with men and women taking their turns at throwing the bones. She knew this much about dice —that they were originally made of bone and possibly were used in some religious or mystical capacity in predicting the future. Seven or eleven. Seven or eleven. A winner, here. A loser, there. Roll again.

She felt him before she heard him. “Gina,” he murmured against her ear. Her spine tingled and she turned slowly to face him. She had to look up. Grey-blue eyes stared back at her. She knew him right away. Just what she’d been hoping for, dreaming of, all these months. He was dressed all in black —black suit, black shirt — no tie, black shoes. Black hair curling over his collar. She smiled and he relaxed. “You look beautiful. Just like your picture.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Charming.

“The roses were beautiful,” she said. “Thank you for them.”

“Shall we go see them?” he asked, still nuzzling her fingers.

“I thought you were playing,” she said, gesturing to the tables.

“I’m not that kind of gambler,” he said with a grin. He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. “Besides, the tables aren’t the only place to roll the bones.”

She swallowed hard. This was going faster than she had anticipated. But no matter. She was ready. She gave him a confident smile. “All right. Follow me.”

He took her hand and let her lead him to the elevators. When the doors closed on them and they were alone, he took her in his arms and said, “You are just as I imagined.”

She braced her hands on his chest and replied, “As are you.”

When the doors opened onto the forty-second floor, he released her and gestured for her to lead the way. She opened her small black clutch and removed the key card from it. Then swiping the lock open, she allowed him to enter before her. Keeping her eyes on his back, she followed him into the darkened room. The door swung shut behind her as she drew a second item from her bag. When he whirled around to face her, the hand holding the gun wavered just a little. The blade of the knife he held glinted in the moonlight shining through the uncovered window. His laugh was low and genuinely mirthful. She gave small chuckle herself.

“What are the odds?” he asked, lowering the knife. “Of two killers finding each other online?”

She kept the gun trained on him as he took one step back. “Apparently they are higher than you would think.”

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David Gandy, image via listal

Gone For Good

This is the first new fiction I’ve written in months. It also has the potential to be developed into a longer work but for now, it is going into the short story collection. Enjoy.

Moving day was finally here. I’d always hated living in the Philadelphia suburbs and at long last I was saying goodbye for good. The plan was pretty simple. Kim and I would recruit friends and neighbors to help load up the moving truck on Sunday, we’d stay with her family Sunday night, and first thing Monday morning, we’d go to settlement. With cash in the bank account, I would hit the highway in the truck, towing one of the cars. Kim hated the idea of a coast to coast road trip so I suggested she fly out five days later. “You’ll have some private time with your mom that way,” I had said.

The sale of the house netted us $53,000. Not a fortune, but enough to get started someplace new. Kim kissed me goodbye outside the realtor’s office and I took the cashier’s check with me to the bank on my way out of town. I promised to call her when I stopped for the night. My plan for the first day was to reach Knoxville, Tennessee.

At the bank, I deposited the check in our joint checking account and withdrew the small balance in our savings account which I added to the stash of currency I’d been accumulating over the past few months. The black Addidas backpack held $21,000 in tens and twenties.

The trip to Knoxville would take longer than if I were simply traveling by car. I was counting on that fact in keeping Kim from worrying if I didn’t call until late in the day. My first stop was actually going to be in Lancaster, at an auction, where weeks ago, I had negotiated a lump sum for all my worldly goods. The proprietor had also agreed to pay me in cash. When I drove away with my empty moving truck, I had another $8,000 to add to the backpack.

Next, I returned the truck to the local rental office and transferred my bags to the back of the Subaru. Now, I would hit the road for Knoxville. I arrived only an hour past my estimated travel time. Kim hadn’t worried at all.

The bank had said the money from the cashier’s check deposit would be available in increments of $10,000 per day on the first four days and the final $13,000 on the fifth day. I wouldn’t have time to access all of it before Kim boarded the plane for San Fransisco, but I’d be able to get a sizable chunk. I had planned my route based on branches of the national bank being close by. First thing Tuesday morning, I withdrew $9,990, just below the limit that would attract attention from the Internal Revenue Service. I did the same thing in Asheville, North Carolina the next day. And again in Atlanta, the day after that. Enough was enough. I was cutting it close.

That night in the hotel, I smashed my phone to pieces, cut my driver’s license and my credit cards into tiny bits and said goodbye to Perry Reynolds for good. My new driver’s license issued in Florida, read Michael Johnson, a name so common, it would never stand out.

The next morning, I parked the Subaru in the long term parking lot of the Atlanta airport and took the shuttle to the terminal for international flights. Instead of boarding a plane, though, I circled through the terminal to the area for arriving flights and hailed a taxi to take me back to the city center. After replacing my cell phone using my new identity, I made a single phone call.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said, the smile apparent in my voice. “I’m on my way.”