Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard when he lives in the jungle without a razor?

3 words - Suspension of disbelief. With a little help from the font of knowledge -Wikipedia – Suspension of disbelief - a formula for justifying the use of fantastic or non-realistic elements in literary works of fiction. Although I don't quite understand why they are just using literary works in their definition. TV and movies have us suspending our disbelief a lot more. (Have you watched the movie Inception?)

How many of you have sat through a "Tarzan" movie and never wondered why the hero is clean-shaven, decently groomed hair and smells remarkably unlike a barnyard? And the heroine has 14 changes of clothes from a tiny suitcase that broke open then washed up on shore. As the viewer, you may have scoffed at it; even leaned over to the person next to you and commented on it. But did it destroy you pleasure in viewing the movie? Probably not.

In writing, the obvious suspension of disbelief (SOD) would occur in paranormal books. Vampires, werewolves etc mingling with present day humans, owning cell phones and driving cars. Or in sci-fi books where aliens transport to Earth and live unseen among us.

But I'm talking about SOD in contemporary books. Any contemporary book has the disadvantage of the critiquer, editor or reader all living in the same era and potentially experiencing the same things. Therefore, they put their opinions on their SOD.

To cite a bizarre example. Say the book you are reading is an action war drama. The hero and his platoon are caught in a vicious firefight. The soldiers are pinned down and are being wounded or killed every few moments. Their bullets seem to miss their targets but the enemy's fire is getting through. You are willing to believe the disconnect of the gunfire as the writer has gripped your attention with the sounds and smells of the scene. Then the enemy suddenly stands up and starts singing and dancing the latest routine from Glee.

You might keep reading. Overwhelming curiosity might prod you into seeing if the writer can pull such a scene flip off or you might toss the book aside and go for a long walk. Why? From general knowledge, the enemy doesn't usually dance during battle. I studied history and I don't recollect my professors ever mentioning this. So your perception of life affected your suspension of disbelief. Maybe there is some Amazonian tribe that does this – to confuse the enemy. And if you had heard about that tribe then you might read the scene without a second thought.

What is this leading to? When editing or critiquing someone's one work be aware of your bias. Before you highlight a section and comment – Why did the character do this? or This is too out of character for this person? – think about why the author might have chosen their character to do this? Remember you are reading with a tight focus and a problem presented does not have to be explained immediately. Let the writer and the characters get to it.

A few years ago, I had a small scene in a chapter ripped apart by a critique partner. She went on for half a page as to why the scene was wrong and why the character wouldn't do "it". Yet, I wrote the scene from true life. Then, as it happened, it was as irritating and confusing as it turned out in the book. When I thanked the critique partner for her efforts, I politely commented that the scene that so riled her was an actual event. She refused to believe me and said that it ruined the story for her.

Sadly being an inexperienced writer, I modified the scene, even though 4 other critiquers had no problem with the section. But that suggests a later post of "sticking to your guns."

Critiquing or editing is a hard task. But we must do it without letting our personal bias cloud our efforts.

Is there a moment when you just couldn't take a book, movie or TV show anymore? Your suspension of disbelief was shot. Mine was the movie Centerstage. I have some experience as a dancer and in the movie, a ballerina with no jazz dance training takes her first jazz dance class. When they get to the choreography part of class, she watches the males do their section of the routine, then she scurries to the front of the group and leads them in a routine she has never seen before. I almost threw my popcorn at the screen.

Excerpt from Circles Interlocked

Chapter One
Five years - Julie hadn't seen or thought about him in all that time, and now in the middle of nowhere, he stood on the beach drying off from a swim. Droplets flew as Robert shook his hair. His black mane was shorter than the last time she saw him. The wet ends dripped water on his bare, muscular shoulders. Tricia, an old high school friend once said he had the body of a male stripper - time hadn't changed that.
Julie stepped back onto the beach path, transfixed by the sight of the one person she hated. Her repulsion and loathing of him ran so deep; she'd repressed all memories of him. She thought he'd loved her, and had taken a chance, opening up her heart and body to him. But instead of returning her love, he proved himself worthy of the gutter from which he'd crawled.
Her body said run, but her feet refused to move as she watched a long-legged, svelte, golden blonde rise from the beach chair. She trickled her fingers down his rippled stomach. His voice floated across the sand. It was a calming sound, which had brought a smile to Julie's face when he whispered words of love and passion.
Details she thought she'd long forgotten surged forward. She remembered the way his dark eyes smoldered with anger and his sly, innocent grin. His joyous laughter had made her feel the abandonment of a child frolicking in the year's first snowfall. She stepped backward onto the path, distancing herself from the lovers as the blonde undid the strings on her bathing suit top, and let it fall to the sand.
With an unexpected shiver, Julie hurried along the meandering path, and returned to the cottage, and to the man she accompanied - who was nothing like her betrayer. Vincent's sad brown eyes reminded her of a basset hound's - loyal and true.
"Julie." She looked toward Vincent standing on the deck. "Jean-Marc's on the phone. Shall I take a message?"
"No, I won't make him suffer. He has very few hairs left to pull out of his head." She took the cell phone and sat on a deck chair. "Hello, Jean-Marc."
"How's the knee?" he asked. As always, Jean-Marc, Artistic Director, was direct to the point.
"Better."
"Have you been following your doctor's orders?"
"Yes, all I've done is sit on the deck, stare at the ocean and get fat. We leave this afternoon, and if the doctor says everything's okay, I'll be back on Tuesday. Sound good?"
"Great. Bye."
She placed the cell phone on the table, and the other slid down to her knee. Two weeks ago, it was grotesque and painful. During a simple rehearsal, Julie posed in an elegant arabesque held tall on her pointe. Her leg was lifted high above her head, back arched, and her arms suspended in the air, as if frozen in time. Until she collapsed on the floor.
At first, only her dignity was hurt. Then the pain shot from her knee to her brain. The doctor said she was lucky there was no serious damage He urged her to take a vacation to let the knee mend.
Julie gazed out at the ocean listening to the waves splash against the shore. Had it really been that long ago? Five years since she'd left her friends, her family and the longhaired, scruffy guy who snuck his way into her heart. Notorious gang member or not, he still portrayed a sense of vulnerability and innocence. Then in true gang style, he stabbed her heart - figuratively. She shook her head. "No, don't think of him."
"Hmm?" Vincent peered over the top of his Financial Post.
"Nothing, just mumbling to myself. I can't get over this view." Julie waved a hand toward the ocean and inhaled the headiness of the salty air, sighing in contentment.
Now, it was time to get back to the harsh realities of daily class, rehearsals and performances. She was a dancer, and that's what she must do – not lie on the beach making love. She slapped the wooden arms of the deck chair, stood and followed Vincent into what he called a rustic little thing tucked among the trees.
"Which would you prefer?" He held out two plates. On each was a light meal of vegetables, a creamy dip, fruit wedges and low-fat cheese. Julie carried hers to the dining room where she found a pitcher of ice tea and a tray of crackers.
"Rustic little cottage. The dining room seats eight. It has five bedrooms, four baths, and you could roast a pig in the fireplace." Her gaze settled on the expanse of sand and seawater that stretching to the horizon. "But you could begin to believe you're the only person alive. So different from my life at home - people at rehearsal and hundreds of people in the audience. It was nice to be alone, just you and I. If only for a little while." She turned to face Vincent. "Hello? Humph, I make a great impassioned speech about my place in the universe, and I'm talking to myself."
"Pardon?" Vincent entered the room and sat at the far head of the table. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were speaking to me. Please, continue." He folded his hands.
Julie dipped a broccoli bud into the dressing. "Short version, it's been a great week."
Vincent nodded. "It'll be great to get back to work."
"You never left work." She raised her broccoli and shook it at him. "If you weren't texting someone, you were calling them."
"I can't be expected to be away from work for a whole week. I'm the boss." Vincent straightened his linen napkin. "But I did this for you. And look at you - all tanned and healed. I've a notion you're biting at the chance to get back to work."
Julie munched a carrot stick and stared out the window.
With the last bit of lunch consumed, Vincent carried the remains of the meal to the kitchen. Julie wandered back to her deck chair, and let the warmth of the sun relax her soul. Immobile, she listened to the clatter of Vincent as he cleaned the few dishes they had dirtied.
Bartholomew, Vincent's personal assistant/body guard, had been sent back to open the estate, and now Vincent's compulsion for neatness forced him to assume butler duties. "Robert wouldn't have done that." Julie lurched up clamping her hand over her mouth.

to continue the free read - click on link under the banner.

to purchase - click on link at right of blog - Circles interlocked is only available on KDP.

Circles Interlocked

Yesterday, Circles Interlocked went up on KDP. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005S8LI46
For a lot of reasons and from reading pros and cons from other writer's experiences, I decided this was the best place to put my book.
If anybody has a moment to go "Like" it please do so.
Also to celebrate - Circles Interlocked is free for today – April 12.

Once lovers, a ballerina and a former gang member reconnect but must still face the lie that broke them apart.

Thank you.

VA

A quick tip to help self-editing

When I was in first year university I took a Kinesiology course and with professor who'd been nicknamed Basic Bob. Why you ask? Because basically Basic Bob could stick the basic word basic into a basic spot in any basic sentence that he basically wanted to. We would leave a lecture with pages of notes and every other word was basic. By the end of the term, the word had insidiously crept into my vocabulary. It took focused effort not to use it.

What is this leading to? I knew about verbal over-used words or go-to words, but I didn't make the jump to they could also be evident in my writing. I read a blog to help in self-editing. It suggested keeping an eye out for certain over-used words.

I decided to highlight them -"just" in yellow, "that" in green, "then" in blue and "was" in pink. I knew there'd be a couple. I wasn't worried. Can I just say – OMG! I was horrified when I scrolled through my chapter.

I'm a panster. When I write I go with it. Get the words on the page. If I stop to edit I feel like my train of thought will stop, so I type away. I know my go-to words are there, but I have developed a solution. When a chapter is done, I paste my edit list at the top and then highlight all the go-to words, passive verbs, conjunctions, ly adverbs and other things I've learned to look out for. My chapter tends to look like someone threw a couple of handfuls of ice cream sprinkles on it, but I can easily see what needs to be reworked and edited out. It's not a perfect system but it helps me.

I thought I might share part of my list:
Watch out for the over use of -
!!!!! (I love exclamations points)

Major look- out- fors - was, were - could indicate passive (especially was ____ing), had, have, could, would, should, just, then, that (if the sentence works without the "that" – remove it)

Initial conjunctions - (It isn't wrong to start with initial conjunctions - just don't overdo it.) MAIN ONES - as, if, until, how, when, after. There is a huge list – just google it.

Weak words – see, saw, feel, feeling, felt, smell, taste, knew, know

Passive verbs - is, are, was, was being, has been, had been, being, may be (not maybe), will be, must have been, might have been, is going to be, has to be, used to be, can be and by

Telling verbs - he watched, he saw, he felt, he thought

Put into contractions - not, is, are, am, had, have, will, would, should, could

Word list - seemed, start, very, once, again, began, beginning, noticed, after, always, already, even, fast, quick, quite (there are actually 67 words on this list – but these are the ones I find I use the most.)

Ly adverbs - (softly, quietly, slowly, quickly…)

I am not saying NEVER use these words, just be aware of how many times. 83 uses of the word that in one chapter might be a bit too many. Just saying.

Ecopy of Circles Interlocked goes to.....

Sherry was the Hoppy Easter blog hop winner of an ecopy of Circles Interlocked.

Her copy has been mailed to her.

The correct answers were -
1. Who is The Velveteen Rabbit
2. Who is The White Rabbit
3. Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
4. What is Pink
5. Who are Babs and Buster
Bonus – Who is Killer?

Thank you to everyone who everyone who commented.

Circles Interlocked - Birthday Bloghop recipient

Lauren Mackesy won an ecopy of Circles Interlocked form Carrie's Birthday blog hop.

The copy has already been emailed to her.

Hopping on the Hoppy Easter Bloghop

Hoppy Easter

Since I can't organize an egg hunt here – and since I like doing things completely different - we'll play an Easter game. Easter questions – Jeopardy style. Clue - answers are about rabbits.
Example –
Question - What famous cartoon bunny is best known for his famous line, "Ehh, what's up, doc?"
The answer – Who is Bugs Bunny?

To win an ecopy of Circles Interlocked post an answer to at least one of the questions below. The more answers the more chances. Answers will be posted after this Hop has tip-toed through the tulips.

1. One of the greatest books for children tells the tale of a rabbit who wishes to become "real" through the love a boy. But disease is almost the end of this hero. What special children's book is this?

2. When Alice visited Wonderland - who was she chasing when she fell down the hole?

3. In 1988, a combination live-action/cartoon film was released, launching the career of a bunny. What movie features characters such as Eddie Valiant, Judge Doom and Jessica Rabbit?

4. In order to sell batteries, Energizer came up with a rabbit that kept "going and going and going..." What color is the Energizer Bunny?

5. In 1990, "Looney Tunes" came out with "Tiny Toons", a group similar to the "Looney Tunes" characters, but much younger. They included a young duck named Plucky and a pig called Hamton J. What were the two young rabbits called?

Bonus In the book "Calling on Dragons" by Patricia C. Wrede, an innocent bunny gets morphed into a seven foot blue winged donkey that floats. What is the name of the rabbit?

Excerpt from Circles Interlocked –
Julie walked over to her former lover. She knew what she wanted, and she knew he was capable of doing it. She slid her hands from his belly to his chest. Robert's eyes closed at her touch. One hand continued to move up his neck to his face, the other traveled down his stomach, and rubbed along the inside of his thigh muscle. His body quivered. "I want you to make love to me." She breathed her words across his ear.
Robert didn't move. Julie wasn't concerned. She could get what she wanted out of him. She pushed him backward until she'd maneuvered him to the bed. "I've spent years time missing the way you made love to me. Nobody else mattered. Nobody else compared."
Her lips touched every part of his face. At first, he didn't respond, but her urgency aroused him past his point of control. Julie smiled. She'd won.
His hands roamed her body, fingertips savoring the memories. His eyes focused on nothing, but her still clothed body. With practiced skill, he slid the zipper down the back of her dress, and slipped the strap off her shoulder. His fingers outlined her bare flesh from the nape of her neck to where the strap limply hung. On the other side, his lips followed the curve of her neck down to where he'd pulled the other strap. With a slow pull, he peeled the dress from her body letting it fall to the floor. "You're more beautiful than I remember."
Lying down, she took his hand pulling him beside her. Within a heartbeat, his lips were on hers as his hands caressed the insides of her thighs, which made thinking - for either of them - impossible. He paused. His gaze searched her face. Julie tilted her head and moistened her lips - waiting. Robert moved forward. A mere breath away he pulled back.
"This is wrong. I can't." He stood next to the bed, chest heaving in sexual frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't."
Julie tried to coax him back to the bed, but he'd moved too far away. She walked up behind him, and slid her hands under his shirt. "Make love to me."
"I can't."
"Why not?" She spun him around. "You could before. You said I was still beautiful. Why can't you do it now?"
"Because."
"Because isn't an answer."
"Because I still love you." He rubbed his hand on his forehead.
Julie grabbed his arm. "So show me. Prove it to me. Make love to me. I need you to make love to me."
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because ... I still...." Robert pushed her aside and fled from the room.

To hop around this bloghop – visit - http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/

Carrie's Birthday Bloghop

It's Carrie's Birthday.

I'd sing Happy Birthday but I can't hold a tune – so instead I'm going to blog about cake – birthday cake.

I love cake. I love to bake them. I love to eat them. And if I was an erotic romance writer I'd have my characters.......I'll let you fill in the visual.

For my friend's 40th birthday she called up and asked for my chocolate cake. She doesn't bake. That in itself floors me. When I'm not writing or editing or critiquing or revising – I bake. I experiment with new recipes and pull out old favourites.

The cake my friend wanted is not MY cake – it's a recipe from a book – but to give you an idea I'll run through the first 5 ingredients
12 ounces of butter (cup and a half)
10 ounces of dark chocolate (cup and a quarter)
12 egg yolks
8 ounces fine sugar (1 cup)
6 egg whites

That's just for the cake – then there is the chocolate mousse between the layers and the chocolate ganache poured over the whole thing. Plus a little whipped cream thrown on just for some extra loving. Luckily, no one I know is diabetic, but I have probably added a few inches to the hips of my friends.
Found some pictures we can all drool over. These are not my cakes - I can bake them and ice them - can't decorate like this.

To me chocolate cake is the greatest comfort food. Yes it's rich and loaded with calories and fat and carbs and whatever else isn't good for you. But to me chocolate cake is "soul food". Makes me feel good right down to my soul. Do I eat it every day? No. But I sure wish I could.

For a chance to win an ecopy of my contemporary romance – Circles Interlocked – leave your email and tell me what your favourite comfort food is.
Circles Interlocked - Victoria Adams
available at (click on cover or go to--)
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Circles-Interlocked-ebook/dp/B005S8LI46
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Circles+Interlocked

Having been betrayed by the man she assumed she was destined to be with forever; Julie Anderson slapped Robert Holiday in an angry ending to their brief love affair. Heartbroken that her love affair didn't end with the fairy tale Happily Ever After, Julie leaves town to pursue her dream of being a dancer. As fate has a curious sense of humor, eight years later, they wake up in bed together. Now it is up to love to fix what time cannot mend.

Excerpt---
Five years - Julie hadn't seen or thought about him in all that time, and now in the middle of nowhere, he stood on the beach drying off from a swim. Droplets flew as Robert shook his hair. His black mane was shorter than the last time she saw him. The wet ends dripped water on his bare, muscular shoulders. Tricia, an old high school friend once said he had the body of a male stripper - time hadn't changed that.
She stepped back onto the beach path, transfixed by the sight of the one person she hated. Her repulsion and loathing of him ran so deep; she'd repressed all memories of him. She thought he'd loved her, and had taken a chance, opening up her heart and body to him. But, instead of returning her love, he proved himself worthy of the gutter from which he'd crawled.
Her body said run, but her feet refused to move as she watched a long-legged, svelte, golden blonde rise from the beach chair. She trickled her fingers down his rippled stomach. His voice floated across the sand. It was a calming sound, which had brought a smile to her face when he whispered words of love and passion in her ear.
Details she thought she'd long forgotten surged forward. She remembered the way his dark eyes smoldered with anger and his sly, innocent grin. His joyous laughter had made her feel the abandonment of a child frolicking in the year's first snowfall. She stepped backward onto the path, distancing herself from the lovers as the blonde undid the strings on her bathing suit top, and let it fall to the sand.

Now off to other blogs to have more chances to win. Don't forget to leave your comment and email at as many blogs as you can.

Writer's Voice - my thoughts

It may sound strange when talking about a "writer's voice" when what writers deal with are words, but it means the sound of the author's story. And defining it is very difficult.

On one level, it is how the writer uses dialogue, diction, punctuation, syntax and character development.

Dialogue – Do your characters talk a lot or are your chapters full of description of action or scenery. My characters talk a lot, so I keep running the risk of having "talking heads".
Punctuation – I love exclamations points and dashes !!!!! But I have learned to cut back on them. I read a book- have forgotten title – where there was little punctuation but many em dashes.
Diction – how do your characters speak - correct grammar vs street kid vs arrogant aristocrat
Syntax – how you follow the rules of grammar and speech. I've been known to bust a few rules. Sometimes I accept the corrections by my critique group and others times I stubbornly refuse.
Character Development – are your stories character driven or plot driven. If the people are more important then their personality must be explored.

I belong to a couple of critique groups and spend many hours editing my peers' work. I'm noticing that I can identify the author by the way it is written. How?

M writes YA and her characters speak "teenager". They can be sarcastic and flippant as teenagers often are. Her stories don't delve into teenage angst so she doesn't explore dark recesses of her characters thoughts, but there are still emotional issues. Her stories are fast paced and with a touch of joy and hope in them.

B has an intense sound. She writers erotic paranormal. Her characters - often the males - are dark and brooding. They usually have troubled/tortured pasts so she can dig deep and express their pain. The pace of B's stories is slower as the "erotic" sections build and ebb or as a character struggles through an emotional turmoil.

What about my voice? I don't know what i sound like, but I have a sense of it. When a cp (critique partner) suggests a change there are moments when my instinct/gut says the change is wrong. The cp's changes are how she would write that line. She can't help doing that - her voice is telling her how I wrote it isn't "correct." You have to learn to trust yourself as a writer to develop your style or else you could end up sounding like the six people who critiqued your work.

How to work on your voice? Write. Write. Write.

Write when you are really angry - steaming mad. Go back a couple of days later and look at what you wrote. Is it full of short sentences? Big words. Lots of exclamation points. Read what you wrote out loud . Do you sound like a pompous aristocrat or an angry drill sergeant.

Write about something that makes you very happy. Describe a kitten playing with a toy mouse. Write a letter to someone you love. And again, go back days later and look at your piece. Check your word choices, the length of your sentences and the number of adjectives. Read this one aloud. How does your physical voice differ than when reading the angry letter.

Now you are beginning to understand what your personal writing voice is.