Music

Seen on the Helford River on 27/8/11

Two events over the weekend caused me to think about the importance of music. I was looking at a cartoon in one of the weekend papers. It showed the new twist - music to be a part of ebooks...which is interesting and complicated (thinking here of licensing etc...)

I don't listen to music when I write rough drafts because it distracts me and pulls me out of the story. On occasion I will have classical music playing but rarely. However when I'm editing or even thinking of editing music moves me and helps me to carve out the story from the raw draft. Sometimes, not always, I have my own little sound track for the books...which brings me back to ebooks with music...it could be wonderful or it could ruin a book for me. If I love the music chosen perfect but what if it clashes with my feelings or interpretation of the story????

I know of three writers who always have soundtracks for their books Elizabeth Chadwick, Julia Williams and our own Julia Cohen (who blogged about it here )- very different writers - one historical and the other two contemporary. Elizabeth has a separate blog listing her sound tracks so that if readers wishes to know what inspired her they can seek it and Julia references key songs in her blog. Julie uses her blog to talk about the music too. That works for me. It's my choice if I want to know... How do you feel about it? I know for me a brilliant soundtrack can make a film...but a book? Two films and their soundtracks jump to mind - Twilight's soundtrack (first film only) I thought was brilliant and the other one was the soundtrack for Easy Virtue....then of course their are films where the music is better than the film - The Boat That Rocked (I enjoyed it but...)

So this leads me the second event where music took over. This weekend it was the village regatta. It is the major event of the years pulling all the local villages together around the river. In the evening there are fireworks and this for us as a family has always marked the 'end of summer' moment. This year as we walked down to the river, we stopped at the river cafe. It was festooned with coloured lights, a makeshift bar was fully loaded and a hog roast was being devoured. Kids dashed up and down the grassy banks. Wonderful but what stopped me in my steps was the sound of music and music that was so right.

Three men were playing a sea shanty - Haul Away Joe.  Here at at the side of the river beside the old chapel with the bell from a ship wreck off a nearby reef...it was right. Their voices were perfect and clear...heard over the shouts of the smalls and the chattered of conversation...It could have been a hundred years before except for the strings of lights above our heads. I know for certain that I wasn't the only one who thought the setting and music were a perfect match.... Has you had this happen? Have you used it in writing to evoke a setting or a mood?

Come back on Thursday to hear from Biddy

LOVE MACHINE launch party!

For the first time in Heroine history, we are having a launch party for a book that is not by a Heroine Addict.

Or at least, not on the cover.

LOVE MACHINE is an erotic science fiction romantic comedy by Electra Shepherd. It came out yesterday from Ellora's Cave and it's about a woman who falls in love with a big blue robot.

How can the Heroine Addicts not celebrate a book about a woman who falls in love with a big blue robot? Especially when it gives us the excuse to come to a party with ROBOT DATES??

Here's more about the book:

Good-time girl Cally Morgenstern has never paid much attention to the robots her father built. That is, until one night when her vibrator runs out of batteries. And hey, if you’ve got a six-foot hunky robot offering to relieve your sexual frustration, you’re not going to say no, right? Even if he is sort of…well, definitely…blue?

Cally quickly realizes Blue isn’t the average robot. He’s rapidly acquiring a personality, for one thing. And an avid interest in human sexuality, particularly when it comes to Cally. She’s eager to teach Blue all she knows about sexual pleasure, even if they have to build him a few necessary parts in the process. And even if Blue’s explorations of human feelings touch her own, very human, heart.

But enough about the book for now. Let's see what ROBOT DATES the Heroine Addicts have turned up with (in alphabetical order of names, so as not to play favourites):

Anna has come with Optimus Prime. It is a well-known fact that Anna starts to salivate whenever she sees a photograph of Optimus Prime. At least two Addicts have personally witnessed this fact (most lately in the lunch queue at the last RNA conference in Caerleon, if you are wondering).

Brigid would probably like a country music singing robot. But for some reason, robots don't seem to sing country music. So she has The Flight of the Conchords singing 'Robot Song' instead:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B1BdQcJ2ZYY&feature=related

'We no longer say "yes", we say "affirmative".'

Christina, of course, with her fondness for Highlanders, has to be accompanied by the Scottish Robot RoboCup Football Team (I joke you not):

(photo from the BBC)

Julie has been known to snog a Dalek on occasion:

Liz doesn't muck around when it comes to robots. She's here with The Terminator. Hasta la vista, baby! And Susanna has often expressed her great love for Blade Runner Replicant Roy Batty, as portrayed by Rutger Hauer.

So, without further ado, we asked Electra Shepherd to answer Five Fast Facts about LOVE MACHINE:

Favourite scene in the book: Without a doubt, it's the scene where Cally and Blue have to build a big, blue, robotic penis. For obvious reasons.

A scene that made you smile: Cally is teaching Blue how to dance, and she goes to turn on the stereo. But then Blue tells her there's no need, and turns on his own internal MP3 player instead: 'I've Had the Time of My Life'. Nobody puts Cally in the corner!

Character who surprised you the most: Blue. One of the characteristics of his growing humanity is the fact that he's unpredictable.

A scene you hated writing: The last scene. I'd had so much fun writing the book that I didn't want it to end.

A book your hero probably has on his book shelf: I happen to know that Blue is a very big fan of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, by Douglas Adams.

If you'd like to see more sexy robots and take Electra's Who's the Sexiest Robot? quiz, it's on her website, here.

And LOVE MACHINE is available in ebook here.

And finally, faithful readers...we'll admit it, Electra Shepherd is actually a Heroine Addict in disguise. But which one? Take a wild guess.

Damaged Heroes

On Friday I was chatting on twitter with Marg in Australia about one of my fictional men—Gareth in Named of the Dragon—for whom I've always had a "thing", and Marg agreed he was attractive. "Broody, damaged type," she said, and meant that in a good sense. Later on that night, in that serendipitous way that sometimes happens, I went to see the new film adaptation of Jane Eyre (starring Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender, above) whose hero, Mr Rochester, could be the dictionary definition of the "broody, damaged type". And reader, I adored him.

Loved the film so much I went back for a second time today, to see it over. And with Rochester AND Gareth sitting brooding in my mind, now, I've been thinking about why I find some damaged heroes so attractive.

Notice I say "some", not "all", because with my apologies to Brontë-lovers everywhere, I have to tell you Heathcliff's not my type. I mean, there's damaged, and there's Damaged, and some brooders have gone so far to the dark side that the only thing to do, in my opinion, when you meet them is to run.

No, damaged heroes only work for me if they are of a certain type, like Rochester, or Mary Stewart's Raoul in Nine Coaches Waiting, or the Captain in The Sound of Music, men who aren't psychotic but are cut off in their way from life, grown cynical and disillusioned. Men who have the strength of mind and character to function well, to hold their own, but who inside are heartbreakingly lonely.

It all goes back for me, I think, to my love of the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale in childhood, with the kind and generous beast who needs the girl to save him. Only her love, freely given, can restore him to his true self.

In a way, that's true of all my favourite damaged heroes, only in the stories that I love the best the woman's not the rescuer so much as she's a catalyst, an independent equal who brings meaning back into the hero's life and gives him someone else besides himself to care about, and want to be a better man for.

Rochester, in the book, calls himself "Heart-weary and soul-withered", and says of being around someone like Jane that "such society revives, regenerates; you feel better days come back—higher wishes, purer feelings; you desire to recommence your life, and to spend what remains to you of days in a way more worthy..."

And I find it rather interesting that in each story—Beauty and the Beast, Jane Eyre, The Sound of Music, and Nine Coaches Waiting—the heroine not only leaves, but runs away...returning later of her own free will to give the hero what he needs to become truly whole again: her love.

Of course, in my own damaged hero book, the heroine stayed put after she'd left until the hero came to her, but that's just me. And if I ever meet a real-life Heathcliff I'll be getting that restraining order...

What are your thoughts on the damaged hero?

(Don't forget to come back Thursday, to read Julie's next post)

Props and Prompts

(Image from teaorchai.com)

I'm a procrastinator. Generally I will do just about anything to avoid sitting down to work. Therefore I've evolved a certain routine to get me writing, prompts that tell me 'It's Work Time' rather than 'It's Muck Around On Twitter Time'. The idea is that if you do the same thing every time you sit down to work, your subconscious will get itself into work mode and it will be ready to go. This is particularly useful when you don't work in an office, but rather a cluttered corner of your own home.

Over the years I've tried lots of writing prompts. I have a spray bottle of scent, for example, that I can spray around when I am seriously distracted, with the idea that the smell will remind me to be productive. (This one doesn't work so well, because I like the smell so much that I often spray it around when I'm not working, too. Thereby confusing my subconscious mind, but improving the atmosphere of my house.)

My most basic essential prompt is a cup of tea. I've tried doing this with a glass of water instead, since it's so important to drink lots of water, but for some reason only a hot beverage really works. It's either a cup of jasmine green tea (if I'm off caffeine) or a cup of PG Tips with milk, preferably strong enough to leave tannin rings on everything it touches.

I get through a frankly obscene amount of tea every working day.

My other habitual prompt is music. I make a sound track for every book I write—usually it's an organic thing, that grows as I write the book, but sometimes I plan it out in advance—and I only listen to that music when I'm writing, or thinking about my book. Other times, I play the radio or listen to other CDs. This works even better than the tea, and I know this because it works in reverse, too. I can have a cup of tea any old time and I don't always think about my book; but if I hear one of the songs on my soundtrack when I'm away from my desk, say on the radio or the TV, I immediately think about my characters. If I've got my iPod on shuffle and one of my soundtrack songs comes up, I'm transported back to the world of my story, even if the song is from the soundtrack to a book I wrote years ago.

To be accurate, I guess that my tea is a writing prop, whereas my soundtrack is a writing prompt. (That extra m and t make all the difference.)

What are your writing props, or prompts?

Come back on Thursday when Anna will be posting...

Mood Music

I like to write in silence.

I mean SILENCE. No noise whatsoever. My writing time is usually when no one else is even in the house, or when they're sleeping and the house has fallen silent. If I have to write with other people wandering around, I reach for headphones and plug into a repeating track that sounds just like a windy day in Wales, because for me that's like white noise, erasing everything around me.

But this past month, while I worked in an unprecedented frenzy to complete the latest novel before deadline, something strange (for me) began to happen:

I began to download certain songs, and play them (still with headphones, on my iPod) while I worked on certain scenes. At first, I only played the songs before I started writing, but I caught myself a few times writing while I listened, which is very odd for me.

I had a little playlist, by the end. Most of the songs were directly related to characters. A few chords of Robbie Williams' Better Man and I was right in the mind of my past hero, Edmund O'Connor. Daughtrey's What About Now set the scene for my present day second-chance lovers. And so on.

I can honestly say this has never happened to me before with a book, so I'm not sure whether it was a one-off or the start of a new habit, but it's got me very curious. I know other authors create playlists for the books they write, because I've seen them mentioned here and there, I just never thought I would be one of them.

Here's one of my favourite songs from my playlist for The Firebird. As with Daughtrey's, it definitely belonged to my modern day hero, Rob:

Video Details † Bon Jovi


Do you use music when you write (or read)? 

Inhibitions

Over on another blog we’ve recently been talking about feeling old, and how even when the outside is a bit weathered, on the inside we stay 25 (or whatever was the best age for us). I don’t like being judged by how old I am and really resent it when people expect you to behave in a certain way just because you’re not a teenager any more.

Of course I understand that there comes a point where you have to act responsibly, but does that mean you have to become really boring or stop having fun occasionally? Does it mean you’re not allowed to go wild, a little crazy or go with the flow? I had a weird experience last week which made me feel this is the case.

I went to a concert where the majority of the audience consisted of what would be called middle-aged people (not a term I’m fond of either – how do we know what’s going to be the middle of our lives?). Anyway, this was a rock concert, because the main attraction was Paul Rodgers, formerly of the bands Free and Bad Company. (If that doesn’t mean anything to you, then you’ll have to take my word for it, they were huge!) And when you go to a rock concert, you rock. Right? Not this time.

Here, the audience sat very nicely in their allotted seats and occasionally nodded their heads. They listened politely to the warm-up band (who happened to be Joe Elliott, lead singer of Def Leppard, and his new pet project the Down’n’Outz – trust me, those guys can rock!) and a few people clapped along to the last couple of songs. Then there was an intermission while we waited for Mr Rodgers and there were vendors selling ice cream from little trays in the aisles the way they do in theatres! I was astonished. I mean, who goes to a rock concert and eats ice cream? Never happened to me before. Beer, hot dogs, dodgy hamburgers and crisps maybe, but ice cream?

Maybe I’ve been going to the wrong kind though. The last few concerts I’ve been to were in the company of my teenage daughter, since I happen to like the kind of music she listens to as well. Those were attended by a much younger audience who didn’t sit down at all, but “moshed” and threw beer around while dancing in wild circles, crowd surfing and generally going mad. That may be a bit extreme, but they were showing their enthusiasm for the music. They were doing something!

Mr Rodgers eventually got his audience to stand up and sing a bit, even clap along to the beat, and a few daring souls tried a spot of head-banging, but they were in the minority. It was all so staid I wanted to scream. The beat had me tapping my foot and wriggling in my seat. I had to force myself to stay sitting down. I wanted to dance, punch the air with my fist, sing along tunelessly (that’s one of the great things about loud concerts, isn’t it, no one can hear how bad your singing is). But I didn’t dare, because no one else was.

It got me wondering – at what age do we get that inhibited? And do we, as authors, ever get to that point with our writing? Will there come a day when I think “nope, can’t write that, it’s too exuberant for someone my age”. I hope not! When I write, I let my imagination have free rein, the way I wanted to do with my tapping feet at the concert. If I want to be 25 again (via my heroine of course), I am and I would be annoyed if someone told me I couldn’t do it because on the outside I’m older than that.

How many of us have the courage to be who we really want to be on the outside? How many of us dare to let go of our inhibitions and act contrary to everyone else if we feel the occasion merits it?

Maybe next time I will, just to see what happens. What would you have done?

why vacuuming your house = getting a review

My house is for sale. I've never sold a house before. We've been in this one for over ten years now. It was our first proper house together as a married couple. I started my writing career in this house, typing my novels on the dining room table—that was when the dining room became an office. We brought our  son home from hospital when he was born—that was when the spare bedroom became a nursery. We've stripped carpets, painted walls, replaced boiler and windows, fixed roofing, laid turf, built a shed. We've talked, played music, eaten, entertained guests, slept, argued and made up, created life. My husband goes away for weeks on end for work and when he comes back, this is the home he's been missing.

But we need a bigger house. I need a proper office, not a dining room that's on the way to the kitchen, and I'm tired of eating all our meals on the coffee table because what used to be a dining room table is now a desk.

I am very slightly obsessive, and so whenever anyone is coming to view the house, I clean it from top to bottom. I'm doing this on average twice a week, so the house is cleaner than it's ever been, but I am also distracted from my writing and tired of wielding a vacuum cleaner.

The thing that I wasn't prepared for, though, was how personally I'd take it when someone comes to see the house, our home, our nicely-decorated and quirky and clean home, and decided they don't want to make an offer. Sometimes they give reasons, but it doesn't matter to me. Every single time I think, "What's wrong with you? Why don't you like MY HOUSE??"

This is, of course, ridiculous. Everyone has different tastes. Everyone is looking for a place that will suit them, which will become their home. Just because I've been happy here, doesn't mean it will automatically be good for someone else. I know this in my rational mind.

My husband has a different reaction. He says, "Hell, I don't want to sell my house to someone who  doesn't like it. If they don't like it, they have rubbish taste. End of."

What does this have to do with writing, you ask? Well, it struck me today that I have a similar unhealthy reaction to reviews. If I get a negative or merely lukewarm review, I should, rationally, think: "Oh well, the book didn't suit this reader. That doesn't mean it's no good."

Or, possibly, if my battered ego needs boosting, I should think (privately, of course): "Hell, I don't want people who don't like my books to buy them. If they don't like my books, they have rubbish taste. End of."

What does in fact happen, however, is that I take the review personally. Like my house, my book is something I've lavished with care and love. It's something I've lived in, for at least a year of my life. So my knee-jerk reaction is to be much more affected than I know I should be.

I know the answer to this problem because it is blindingly obvious: don't read reviews, or just get over it. Just like I possibly should not spend every waking moment of my life before a house viewing folding the tea towels or picking every last speck of dust off the bathroom floor.

(Come back on Sunday for Anna's post.)

Refilling The Well

No matter how wonderful writing is. No matter how much it feels wonderful when it is going well, sometimes you find the well is dry. Or if not dry at least a little low.

Now it is tempting when the well is dry to start digging to see if you can't find some underground reservoir. You dig deeper and deeper but all you do is stir up mud. Instead why not sit back and think of ways of filling your well.

There are many different ways of filling the well. There are the basics; sleep, food and exercise... never underestimate these, if you are physically drained you won't be in a fit state to keep the well filled. Other than that there are a variety of different ways to fill the well going to the theatre, watching films, listening to music and of course the most important reading.

My favourite ways to fill my well other than reading and watching films are spending quality time with people. Hanging out with good friends chewing the fat or in the case of this weekend ogling Tudor dudes in tights with Julie Cohen. Another of my favourite ways to fill the well is to get away somewhere for the weekend, I highly recommend Cumbria (and Anna's hospitality). Oh and who can forget the well filling joy of kayaking on Frenchman's Creek?

So how do you refill your well?

Come back on Sunday when Susanna will be posting

Who's That Girl?

As Liz said in the previous post we spent a few wonderful hours/days discussing who we would cast in our books. She nabbed talking about the Heroes but a hero needs a strong heroine. And with a blog called 'The Heroine Addicts' we need to look at them.

Now what makes a great heroine for you? Is it her looks? Is it her sparkiness? Is she who we want to be? And when you see the heroine in your head does she look like a famous person?

One of my first heroines is a girl called Allie, in 'The One Before The One' (and yes I know there is now a book of that name but I started mine 6 years ago!). In my head she was a feisty and stubborn (and had to go head to head with a hero played by Jamie Bamber). Allie is the bridesmaid at her ex's wedding and is the prime suspect when he is found dead in the Orangery on his wedding night.


I chose the singer songwriter Allison Moorer. I loved her music and in this picture she said Allie to me.

The next heroine that I wrote about was Zoe. Her hero was Jack (Hugh Jackman) and she was a singer songwriter. Zoe and Jack's story was 'Dream Date' and was the first book I ever finished and it was requested by Mills & Boon but sadly got no further. Zoe wanted to follow her dream of going to Nashville and I wanted someone who looked quirky and determined.




I chose Lori McKenna who is a singer songwriter who followed her dream. Her songs have been recorded by Faith Hill.




Once I had brushed myself down after my rejection I started on another M&B.

My heroine was called Jo, she is the younger curvier sister of a top model. She works as a project manager in the construction industry and she wants to prove to her family that she is successful. She is someone who lives in her head. Her hero Lucas (Gerard Butler) is a reclusive artist with a penchant for picking up waifs and strays. He also hasn't painted in years. Until he takes one look at Jo and her curves. In my head there was only one woman with the fierceness and softness for this job.

Step forward Super Nanny, Jo Frost.

That story didn't last long and I moved onto 'Bah Humbug!' also known as 'The Wedding Carol'. Now I struggled with casting Edie Dickens. The story is based on 'A Christmas Carol' but is based around weddings. Edie is a divorce lawyer and she is visited by Ghosts of Weddings Past, Present and Future. I needed someone who could do uptight and end up soft and in the arms of ex-rugby international, Jack Twist.

I cast Emily Deschanel.


But as we all know I have moved on to the world of YA. Casting for 'The Stone Voice' (also known as 'Henges & Hormones') was easy when it came to the men. Quin is somewhat like RPattz and Lord Eden is Sam West. But Alexa was difficult.

Alexa is almost sixteen. And pretty bloody annoyed with life. At the beginning she is overly concerned with appearances. I struggled for ages to work out who she was. In fact I realise I don't give much of a description of her until well into the book. But then I realised who she was. Someone familiar. Ok so the person she is based on is well over twice her age (physically, not mentally) but really there was only one person it could be.....

ME!

Who are your heroines?

Don't forget to come back on Sunday to hear from Susanna

Poetry

This past week was national poetry week, but that is not why I have chosen to write about poetry – although it would be a good reason. No, what set me onto this topic was in all probability age – forgetting things…I had fragments of an Emily Dickinson poem snapping at the edges of my memory. All week I had been reworking A CORNISH HOUSE and one of the key themes is faith and I was overwhelmed by so many thoughts during the solemn sung mass at Westminster Cathedral last Sunday.

A few weeks ago Biddy, here, asked how do you refill the well and recently another writer friend asked the question what do you do when you get stuck and another when do your best writing ideas come….be patient I will pull all of this together, I promise.

So sitting in the beautiful cathedral my senses were beginning stimulated in many ways – visually – I love the unfinished church and the way the massive crucifix pulls the eye while the morning lights streams in behind it; olfactorily (yes, it is a word – I had to check) the mix of incense and candles and people; auditorily the exquisite voices of the choir – all the while being on autopilot through the order of the mass which is simply a part of me. So my mind in the face of extreme stimulation yet relaxation picked up the words of the opening antiphon …

All things are submitted to your will, O Lord, and no one can resist your decisions; you have made all things, heaven and earth, and all that is contained under the vault of the sky; you are the master of the universe…Blessed are those whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord.

This was further echoed in the readings…

Hab 1:2-3

How long, O LORD? I cry for help
but you do not listen

2 TM 1:6-8, 13-14

Beloved:
I remind you, to stir into flame
the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. 
For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice
but rather of power and love and self-control. 
So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord,
nor of me, a prisoner for his sake;
but bear your share of hardship for the gospel
with the strength that comes from God.

Take as your norm the sound words that you heard from me,
in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 
Guard this rich trust with the help of the Holy Spirit
that dwells within us.

Lk 17:5-10

The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith." 
The Lord replied,
"If you have faith the size of a mustard seed,
you would say to this mulberry tree,
'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

….

I came out of church buzzing with ideas for the book – excellent. (the well refreshed – who would have thought…but the music and beauty and the autopilot did the trick) The well had been refilled and the difficulty I had in progressing with the rewrite was reduced to surmountable obstacles.

Now fast forward to the end of last week. I was within thirty pages of the end of the rewrite and all I could think about was Emily Dickinson. I had been a good girl so I allowed myself to do a little research…

You see, in my final year at Mount Holyoke (where Emily herself spent time – although in those days it was labelled a women’s seminary), I did a fabulous senior seminar on her poetry. I won’t say we read all her poems, but I may have done it (something of a fan girl back then)….somewhere I knew there was poem of her struggling with her faith that I knew would tap into my heroine’s feelings…but could I find it – no.

However I did while away a happy hour or three rereading her work, which reminded me how important poetry used to be in my life. Call it my Irish roots and grandfather reciting bits of verse to me as I sat on his lap, or my teenage need to express all that was trapped in me…poetry spoke to me and to my soul.

It saddens me to say that with the odd exception I haven’t read poetry with diligence since I was twenty-five (this is of course discounting nursery rhymes). This is a mistake, a huge one….

So, poetry…where each word is weighed and measured and given forth almost reluctantly…do you read poetry? Did you read poetry? Do or did you write it? And if you do, do you share it? (Challenge – if you do post a link in the comments)

I just stumbled across my journal from my time studying the great poet….I can clearly see the influence of studying her work on thoughts and my words. I shall leave you with one of my favourite poems of hers:

You constituted Time –

I deemed Eternity

A Revelation of Yourself-

‘Twas therefore Deity

The Absolute – removed

The Relative away –

That I unto Himself adjust

My slow idolatry –

(Apologies if I have transcribed this incorrectly as I working from my old journal …underneath it I had added the comment ‘scalding prayer’)

When Only One Man Will Do…

Sometimes late at night there is only one man I want in my life. I sneak to bed, plump up my pillows, log on to my lap top. I head to iTunes and I’m in heaven.

I watch him stride across stages, stroll on beaches, hanging out on boats and singing on tractors. Some people say my fascination is unhealthy, when I floated the idea of a tattoo of him on my back the Boy Toy threatened the end of everything. I still haven’t taken the idea of it off the table.

Who is this man? Who is the only man that will do?

Kenny Chesney (aka The Chesney)

Since sometime in 2003 I was bitten by the bug and it hasn’t gone away. He is a pint sized bundle of East Tennessee goodness. After a bad day all I want to do is live in his world. Where he tells stories of high school days gone by or love lost. I love the manly way he tries to dance (not always successfully). Of course I could just listen to his music and I do, but there is something about that lower lip of his pouting that just has to be seen. Oh and did I mention that I got to speak to him once? Be still my heart. Next time we'll be sending out the wedding invites.

So what can you do when only one man will do?

So that is me set for the night... who is the only man for you?

Come back on Sunday to hear from Susanna

The Eyes Have It

I was having a look at Susanna Kearsley’s lovely website the other day and the beautiful photo of her eyes featured on the home page made me think about their importance to us writers. I don’t mean just in terms of needing our eyesight for all this writing and reading, but when it comes to creating characters. What our heroes and heroines look like is vitally important and in my opinion the eyes are crucial, especially for the hero.

Eyes obviously play a huge part when it comes to attraction and personally, if I don’t like someone’s eyes, I can’t find them attractive. The clichéd saying “the eyes are the windows to your soul” or something like that really is true, at least when it comes to falling in love.

I’m sure everyone has their own preference, whether it’s the steely blue gaze of a Paul Newman look-alike or the spaniel-brown eyes of George Clooney. I don’t really mind about the colour (although I do have a weakness for green!), as long as they’re surrounded by long dark eyelashes or stand out in some way. Twinkling with humour is good, or flirty and fun with a mischievous glint. I don’t mind them with make-up either, á la Duran Duran or Adam Ant. Just like girls, some guys’ looks really improve with a bit of cosmetic help and as far as I can see, the trend started by the New Romantics has never really gone away among rock bands. Well, why should it? Take Billie Joe Armstrong of the band Green Day for instance – without eye make-up he’s pretty ordinary, but put a bit of black round his huge green eyes and hey presto – he’s gorgeous!

What really does matter the most, I think, is the expression in them. It’s just as clichéd to say that eyes can “smoulder”, but some guys really have that down to a fine art, maybe even without trying. It’s hard to define, but you definitely know it when you see it! And it makes you go weak at the knees for sure.

One of my heroes came about because I was intrigued by the mischievous look in the eyes of a guy appearing in a music video. I was watching Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence and almost forgot to listen to the song when I noticed the ice blue gaze of “the Wolf” (the video is a take-off of the Little Red Riding Hood story with the wolf as a human). Judging by the comments he generated on the internet, I wasn’t alone.

So which part of a hero is most important to you? Do you agree with me or does something else do it for you? I’d love to know.

Please come back on Sunday, when Liz will be here with another great post.