Stupid Alphas

At the Romance Writers of America conference in San Antonio this summer I attended a workshop titled Deconstructing the Alpha. To be honest, I only attended because Eloisa James was one of the moderators and I have a fangirl crush that leads me to believe everything she touches will be golden (justifiably so).

I have struggled with the alpha male ever since I cracked open my first romance novel. He frequently frustrates me. Usually arrogant and domineering, it doesn't make his personality any more palatable to see that he's right in most instances. As a reader I think one of the factors that makes a book re-read-worthy is that you fall in love with the guy a little. I have a hard time falling for the alpha .

That said, alpha sex is hot (disclaimer: the modern alpha male is no longer the date rapist from the '70s -- I can't even read those plots without gagging. It's one of the only things that will make put down a book unfinished). In the workshop, the authors and editors hosting discussed why the modern woman responds to the alpha. In a world where women are expected to be super mom and super executive and super hot, it's a great fantasy to have that cave man who will carry throw you over his shoulder and be counted on to provide for his woman's every need. Sophisticate that a few notches and you have Gabriel Cross. The uber powerful, ruthless, unattainable, implacable, hard bodied demigod who has a soft spot for that one woman. The alpha is a fantasy in regard to appeal and resources, but also in that the woman tames him (breaks him like a wild mustang, painfully, without a horse whisperer) and, ultimately, she has the power because she has his heart (or other parts as the case may be).

I write about this today because I'm trying to write an alpha. I think my fatal flaw is in including his point of view. Already, I've made him too vulnerable. I went for someone who strategizes and assumes the role needed to win in a Machiavellian vein rather than a straight up confident/arrogant master of the universe. Strategists weigh probability, consider outcomes -- and this is taking me out of alpha territory. Would an alpha care about the outcome? Not really, because he KNOWS he's right. My pseudo alpha might be too human.

This my fifth book and my first attempt at alpha. I chose this course on the advice of a friend. I'm trying to hybrid the sexy hard edges of Sylvia Day with the quirky fun of Kristan Higgins and I think I have to step back and regroup. It may be like trying to cross a tea cup poodle with a Saint Bernard--what could possibly go wrong?

That I'm writing this book at all is a departure for me. Call me a whore in that I'm writing what I think will sell (versus my other books which I wrote because I wanted to tell the story). I'm not prostituting my talent completely though, because I really am invested in this story (now). It's actually the best pre-plotted story I've created so far (pantser!), but I'm worried it's not staying the course (which makes it more organic, a good thing) and who knows how it will end?

Sigh.

Point of this blog post: Do you like alphas? How do you define an alpha? Do you think seeing the alpha's gooey center is a turn off or downplays his power?

A Story is Born

I was at my orthopedic surgeon's office for a post-op follow up. Out came the sutures, we both appreciated the minimal appearance the scar. I mentioned my kids were in the car watching Brave with their Daddy. My doctor hadn't heard of the movie and I recommended it, saying it's the first Disney princess movie where falling in love with a charming prince isn't the solution to the problem. I then commented that it was funny that it appealed for that reason since I wrote romance.

My doctor cocked a lightly penciled brow and told me to write one for her: early forties, never married, two big dogs. Bamm! My writerly instincts popped into gear, but instead of thinking about firemen and log cabins, I immediately jumped to the internal stakes for the main character and started brainstorming obstacles. As a writer, this makes absolute sense. As a woman pseudo-joking about lack of romance, her stoned (pain-killers, prescribed and used appropriately) patient spewing possible character flaws (especially since I don't really know her at all, even though she's technically been more intimate with me than anyone else) probably didn't sit well.

I may actually write a little flash fiction for her just for fun and give her the choice between the fireman, the scientist, the childhood sweetheart, etc... Maybe make it a choose your own adventure. Or maybe I'll introduce her to my brother, although I don't know if that would be helping at all. Who knows? She deserves some sort of apology for me spit-balling about the heroine having to overcome control freak tendencies.

I hope I don't need another surgery. :)

This is for you, Doc!

Where's the Love?

I'm 20k into my current project and it feels stagnant. I've brought the story forward, outlined as much as someone like me can, and yet it's not a growing story. I couldn't put my finger on the problem, so just kept writing forward. I knew something was wrong with the meat of what I'd written so far -- that's been the case every time my writing sort of devolved into rambling, but I had no idea what to fix.

I was meeting with my fabulous critique partner going over scenes that I will undoubtedly cut in the final draft because they don't further the story, when she asked when Gillian and Liam were going to get together.

Ummmm... eventually?

WRONG ANSWER. And thus, I discovered the fatal flaw of my work in progress. I wasn't writing a romance. I was writing an interesting story about sentient trees and elemental powers with some romance sauce. Every other story* I've written started with the romance and the story built around it. Touching the Past started with the forest and the idea of coming home at last. The spark was missing and that wasn't something I could just build up in a well placed sentence here and there.

This week I've been starting over again and it hurts. After many starts and stops, yesterday I finally started making progress and the tension in my shoulders relaxed. I'll be able to use a lot of what I've written so far, but it's a new story. I had to revise Gillian's history entirely, create new personal conflict, and reexamine the woman life has made her and the way Liam will respond. A lot of work, but it will be a much better story in the long run. I'm just glad I was able to figure it out now before wasting more time writing in the wrong direction.



*With exception of my under-the-bed book, Courtly Love, which was more writing therapy about depression.

CSI and Me

The CSI team is always finding fibers, hairs, or biologicals on the carpet of the victim's home. Sometimes in the drain, sometimes on the sheets, there is always some sort of clue that stands apart from the myriad of other fibers, biologicals, etc... that exist in the victim's home. Except that there are no other samples. Why? Because all their victims were surprisingly clean.

Every time I watch CSI, I wash my sheets out of shame. If CSI had to come to my house, they would find all sorts of stuff, very little of it relevant to their case. I think of all the times my daughter has wiped buggers in my bed. When my husband has come to bed, collapsing fully clothed in his lawn-mowing jeans. When the bare feet that earlier went outside to feed the dog then tucked themselves under my sheets.

God only knows what's under my nails or how many toxins are in my blood just from working in Hemet. If they searched my drain, would they find samples of the killer's blood amidst all the human, My Little Pony, and Barbie hair there? Trace would be working for hours to differentiate between all the different samples. By the time they were done, they wouldn't want to solve my murder -- they'd consider it karma for them having to process all the dirty tissues in and around the trash can.

If they had to autopsy my corpse (I know, dark.) they would have to cut off my not-matching undergarments, including my too-big grandma underwear. They'd find evidence of past bruising, a lot of evidence. Eventually they would match it up to the corner of my bed, the open dishwasher, my daughter's elbow, and various other things I don't even know about. They would find all sort of residue of different lotions, topical ointments, etc... none of which were pertinent to my murder.

Of course, they writer's couldn't tell a one hour story if they dealt with someone like me. Even when they dumpster dive or have a murder in a back alley, the tiny evidence is clear enough that it stands out as relevant against the grime of the region.

These are they types of things that go through my head when I watch crime dramas. When it comes to writing a mystery, I have to be careful to give clues, but not be captain obvious. It has to be possible for the reader to solve the story, but not so blatant that the reader is frustrated. Luckily all my clues lay in paper trails and verbal accounts and I don't have to deal with soiled sheets and random, important fibers.

Sense of Urgency Required

All of my stories have had a clear time period in which to become resolved. Frances had three months at court, Mary had twelve days of Christmas, and Jane had Frances' house party and the threat of her father taking action. All of these issues created a sense of urgency and made it easy for me to pace my story when it came to chronology.

Not so for Karma. I've made Karma so blasé  about the haunting that it might take years to resolve. There's no need to hurry, so there's no set time frame. What did I do to myself? Of course, urgency creates higher stakes, so beside the fact that I've made my pacing difficult, I've stifled the conflict. Bad Erin. Bad.

Solution? Make the ghosts less amenable and Karma more frightened and less intrigued. I can do this. Karma is one of those highly intellectual people with the common sense that usually goes hand in hand with that -- very little. She's more fascinated by the research than cautious for her safety. Right know she's on a research kick that threatens to slow the pace of the story -- so let's threaten her safety, shall we?

In the space of me mulling it over in this blog the problem has been solved. I love it when that happens and it doesn't have to be forced.

Are you having any issues with your stories?

Possession

I'm off to a good start on my new w.i.p., Possessing Karma. This is my first contemporary, but luckily since I do live in current times, it's not too much of a stretch. :) The paranormal aspect is also not entirely new to me. The story involves a haunted historical building.

For a time during my childhood, my family lived in Ireland. My parents managed a hotel and we lived on the property. The hotel had begun its life as a hunting lodge in the lat 1700s. It later became a boys boarding school before evolving into a hotel during WWIIish. While I never saw anything that I would be willing to swear was supernatural, I definitely felt something (blog post about this here). You can chalk it up to a hyperactive imagination, but it doesn't really matter. What matters right now is that it felt real to me and that gives me a great experience to draw upon when writing about a haunting.

Of course, I was never possessed by a horny ghost, or by any ghost - so that's all new to me.

I introduced my first 250 months ago while I still more in developing stages than real writing (you can compare the two here if you like). Now I'm actually starting the story where the story starts (my mantra). Here are the first 292 words of Possessing Karma. Please let me know your thoughts regarding the hook, the character, setting, etc... Thanks in advance. :)

“What on earth…”

Kay’s voice echoed through the empty room. Where was she? Looking around she took in the polished oak floors, the elaborate crown molding at the ceiling, the Ikea boxes and bags stacked by the wall.

Her new condo in New Orleans. “Home,” her voice echoed through the almost empty room.

She mentally retraced her steps. She remembered the airport in Los Angeles, stepping into humidity in New Orleans. The taxi driver speaking gibberish, one way streets, construction, then finally the bright yellow painted bricks of her new home. She remembered putting the key in the lock, stepping inside to the scent of fresh paint… then nothing.

How had she ended up half naked and dripping wet on the floor?

Sitting up, she ran her hands over her hair. It was damp but not soaked through. Slicking it away from her face, she tied it in a knot on top of her head. Her bra, white cotton and perfectly serviceable, was spotted with water drops, her nipples a dark contrast through the damp fabric.

Maybe she’d passed out. Air conditioned air port, hot parking lot, air conditioned taxi, steaming streets, jet lag, airport food… it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. But then what had happened to her clothes?

“Was I assaulted?”

 Refusing to panic, she stood barefoot in a puddle on the waxed wood. Though undone, her jeans were still on. Running her hands over her body, she felt no injuries. There was nothing outside the norm, well, not really – but her underwear was uncomfortably askew. Kay ran her fingers along the elastic at her thighs, putting everything in place.  What should have been a perfunctory motion sent shivers through her, her body tightening, aroused.

What the hell was going on?

Scent and Your Senses

Last year I bought a tube of different flavored lip-balms for my daughters. There were five in total, so each girl got two and I kept one. The minute I opened that orange chap stick, the scent brought me back 20 some years to fall finals during my freshman year in high school. The sensory memory was sharp. Distinct. I remembered performing a scene from Bitches with my good friend Jessica. I remembered running through the misty rain for the bus, the way my wool skirt that I'd worn as  part of my Bitches costume smelled as it dried. Every little detail, all from the scent of orange chap stick.

Scent is part of how we experience our world and it's something I try not to underplay in my writing. Not all scents deserve to be described, but fresh mowed grass or crisp air after the rain go a long way to adding depth to a spring day. Wood fire smoke, cinnamon, and apple cider helps paint a picture of a cozy autumn night. I tend to overuse the scent of leather and brandy when describing a man. When I write a garden scene, I research what plants grew in that part England 500 years ago, when they were in season, and what time of day their perfume was at its strongest.

Scents can also tell the emotional story or help with character development. Regardless of the food itself, when a meal is a positive experience for the character, the courses smell delicious,  full of sweet and savory spices that make the mouth water. When a negative experience, the sickly sweet scents can turn the stomach, the mixture of odors might assault the senses. In a love scene, the leading man might be smell musky, masculine whereas the villain would be rank, his body odor foul. Use of scent does not just flesh out the environment, it can tell the story.


Do you pay attention to scent while setting your scene?

K is for Karma

Specifically, A Bitch Named Karma by Stephanie Haefner.

I bought the ebook and started reading it over this past week. I knew from Francine Howarth's review awhile back that it was not the erotica implied by the cover art (when my husband saw my purchase on the screen, he inquired hopefully as to the nature of the book).

I started reading (using the Kindle app on my Droid) on the air plane. The whole time I was shaking my head at the cliches that seemed to make up the story. With direct nods to Sex in the City, Legally Blond, When Harry Met Sally, and  He's Just Not That Into You, I had no idea what I would say to Stephanie in the future. Yes, it was entertaining -- but I was expecting something more, something honest and thoughtful.

And I got it.  Without giving the story away, the cliches are part of what turns out to be a satire, mocking shallow women's fiction.  Real life gets in the way of the glamorous facade of chick lit and the story takes unexpected, wrenching paths that make you stop and think instead of just admiring the haute couture.  It is a smart, intriguing story with a very relatable main character. I give this book a gold star.

BTW, the censor bars were placed after my 6 year old daughter came in to my office as I was writing this. I had to explain what a bitch was and why we don't call people that. Then she told me that the girl really should not have her boobs showing, so I added the bars. :)

Yes, I know I'm a couple days off.  It's because I scheduled posts for Sundays.

The Crossroads

Jane just broke Percy's heart. Or, did Percy's unrealistic expectations break his own heart? Will he come to realize that Jane's past doesn't matter and that her motives are honorable and not those of the whore he has condemned her as?  Will he have some deep, introspective, soul searching? Or will a wise mentor guide him in the right direction?

It's a hard question, and one that is not answered in my outline.  If he comes to the realization by himself then there will be quite a bit of deep pov without much action. If a mentor saves the day through sage advice and subtle manipulation, there will be dialogue (which is always a good thing) but it may be too deus ex machina and come off as cliche.

My outline paces the action, but I keep it sparse because my characters have minds of their own and don't follow direction well.  I am not a true seat-of-the-pantser, but I have learned to trust the direction my characters take the story.  Somehow, between now (April 28th) and the May day bonfire (May 1st) Percy has to realize that Jane was being self sacrificing and not cheap. Jane has to realize that love is important.  Percy and Jane can only come together (and I mean that in every way) when she has been honest with herself that he she is meant to be with him and when he respects her strength, shrugging off philosophy for real life. 

I now sit at the start of chapter 14 (about 40k words), about to write fluff (that I will probably later delete) in order to get the story moving. Jane has to buck up and pretend that her love for Percy doesn't matter and try to seduce the Viscount Kinglsey. Percy has to be professional and sophisticated while the woman he has loved all his life flirts with his brother.  It's a horrible moment to be in.  I haven't written more than the description of the spring air and I already hate this chapter. I may just go in the other room and catch up on episodes of House.

Have you ever come to a critical crossroads in your story and not been sure how the problem was going to get resolved?

Catch Me If You Can Blogfest

Thank you to Kristina at KayKay's Corner for hosting this blofest.

The premise:

On Monday March 7, post the first 550 words (or less) of your WIP on your blog.

Hop around on the 7th and 8th to spread the love to the other participants. Feel free to post an updated version after you've gotten some suggestions. Remember: The more comment love you give, the more will come back to you :)

 

Below is the first 553 words from my work in progress, Courtly Abandon.  Happy reading!  I look forward to seeing what the other participants have posted.

Note: I made some changes based on the comments.  The changes w/in the excerpt are in bold.

Holme LeSeiur, Nottinghamshire, 1573

Jane hefted her full hoopskirts and sprinted across the orchard as fast as she could.  Rufus, the elderly hound, probably thought she was playing but this was not a game.  No, she had to get to the split log fence at the edge of the orchard.  Rufus, the elderly hound and her companion this morning, did his best to lope wide circles around her. She was glad he was enjoying himself, but prayed he would not trip her. She had to get to the split log fence at the edge of the orchard without becoming disheveled.  Arriving at the property line, she realized it might already be too late.

Out of breath, she leaned against a thick apple-tree trunk and ran a smoothing hand over her artfully tousled blond curls and net coif.  She had looked both ladylike and wanton when she left the house.  Now, she hoped her exertion had brought a rosy glow to her cheeks that would make any hot blooded man think of bedding her.  Of course Sir William, Earl of Kingsley, was not any man.  He was the man she was going to marry.  She would make him a wonderful wife – he just did not know it yet.  More interested in farming, he had not even noticed her flirtations.  At least she hoped that was all it was.  She could not abide being married to a stupid man.

Her first husband had been sharp witted.  Though quite a bit older than she, he had treated her well and she had been fond of him.  She had also enjoyed her widowhood.  Immensely.  But, it was time to marry again and Lord Kinglsey was convenient, comely, and amiable enough. 

He frequently made a morning round of his lands.  Jane liked to make herself visible whenever possible.  Bringing the dog along had been a stroke of genius – should Lord Kingsley happen to pass by, he would see her as a lovely young woman, full of life, delighting in country pleasures.  What man could resist such an image?

Jane straightened her emerald green silk skirts and leaned back against the tree in a nonchalant pose.  Lord Kinglsey would never know the encounter was staged.  And, Jane looked down to make sure both breasts were still contained, he would get an eyeful.

She waited, adjusting her position a few times.  Perhaps she had been too late?  Rufus’ bark made her jump.

“Mistress Radclyffe,” the Earl of Kingsley’s called out a greeting, “What a pleasure to see you out so early.”  He remained astride.  Though his voice was courteous, there was no sign of eagerness to see her. 

“I love spring mornings and the scent of the world coming alive.  Everything is so… fertile.  The earth is ripe.”  Nicely done.  Honest, suggestive, and sure to play to his interests. 

            The earl jumped off his horse, but kept hold of the reigns as he toed the ground, careful not to get mud on his boots.  “Right now I smell dung.”  He sniffed the air.

Dung?  Really?  Earl or not, the man could use a lesson in courtly manners.

“It appears that the LeSeiur’s have already had this ground turned with mulch.  Good of them to be so proactive.  The orchard should yield a fine crop.”

            Jane watched his face as he cast a speculative eye over the empty branches of the apple trees.  Lord Kinglsey ran a fine estate, always conscientious of the tenants and almost obsessive in his desire to improve his own knowledge of agriculture.  She admired his devotion, but she certainly hoped that once they were wed he would pay her some attention. 

Don't forget to sign up for my Paint it Purple Blogfest by 3/25!

What Every Woman Needs.

Rated R for ranting.

The modern woman is capable of everything all at the same time. She is educated, socially powerful, physically fit, elegant, beautiful, passionate, etc... Oh yeah, she is also a wonderful mother. With this wonder-woman ideal in mind, it must be hard to read historical romances where the woman is uneducated and raised solely to obey her father and then her husband. Where the woman is flawed if she fails to produce children sons.

Then again, I can't remember the last historical romance I've read that had a heroine that fit the norms of the social history of her era. More and more, she seems to fit modern norms. Occasionally there is a meek young miss who is submissive and reproductive, but then she grows out of it and develops a modern day backbone.

This does not really bother me. Why? The reader needs to relate to the heroine. She needs to want to be part of the fantasy. She's not looking for realism or else we'd have the heroine have an awkward menstrual moment or pee when she sneezed. We read romance to escape reality. So a historically unrealistic heroine is fine(ish).

What is not fine is the increasing amount of alpha females I read about. Not only is she perfect, both in our era and her's, but she is dominant and everyone accepts that. The poor men that try to challenge her supremacy end up emasculated husks, shivering in a dark corner of their room. Except for the alpha male they end up with.

Alpha + Alpha = bloodbath

An Alpha male wants to dominate. An Alpha female wants to dominate. He thinks he'll cure her dominant spirit with his magical penis. She thinks he's too stupid to realize she's manipulating him, which she's not. This is not a good situation. But, what ends up happening? There is some hot domination, she gives in, and the magical penis prevails.

Eventually, he respects that she's intelligent, but it doesn't really matter because she's learned to trust him implicitly. And the penis.

So that leads me to a question -- is that the fantasy women want to escape into? That the alpha super woman needs a good man to tame her? Hey, I understand the dream of having no responsibilities and being taken care of (being a cat), but that aside, women have fought hard for the right to have unattainable standards of excellence. And even though the heroine archetype may have changed a bit to meet our standards, her fall into love is also a fall into cavewoman-like subservience.

I'm not saying this is wrong, but it seems counter intuitive.

Thoughts?

Trust

I recently had a crisis with my WIP. The romantic conflict was almost resolved and I was only halfway into the book. Did that mean it was only meant to be a short story? Reading through, the characters were very 2-D. The story was only the love story.

I realized I had failed to develop my supporting subplots. When I came up with the premise for Courtly Christmas, the main subplot was the story and the love affair was a part of that, but not the whole. Then I started getting feedback about Courtly Love being too much of a historical fiction and not being romance.

I didn't want to make that mistake twice, so I changed my focus in Courtly Christmas. It was definitely romance. But it was not a good story. It had fallen flat. What was I missing? A plot beyond boy meets girl, they do it a couple times, and live happily-ever-after.

I pulled out my original outline. Would you look at that? There was a mystery to be solved. A bad guy. Strong support characters. All of that had fallen by the wayside. Why? Because I did not trust myself. I had stopped writing the book I wanted to write in favor of pleasing some unknown party. I did not trust myself to tell the story as it was meant to be.

So, until an editor/agent/publisher tells me differently, I'm writing the story that wants to be told.

My Lead Gets Her Drink On

It is a beautiful sunny day. My husband is keeping the children off of me. I am writing. Good stuff.

But wait, there's more.

I have a jug of sangria and I'm writing about my lead character, Mary, getting her drink on. Now, in my first novel, Frances had too much to drink on an empty stomach and ended up throwing up. Not only was her fuzzy mind fun to write, but the vomit scene was funny and a glimpse of real life that many people can relate to.

Now, I decided to write this scene in spite of the fact that I know that my sister (also Mary) will read it and ask me if I notice a theme about alcohol consumption and how I feel about that. I write this scene knowing that Avalon books will want nothing to do with me. I write this scene because it's fun. My main character is at a crazy party. People are handing her beverages left and right. She's going to make a fool of herself. Sir Nicholas is not going to take advantage because he's a good guy. I'm am not glorifying alcohol consumption, I'm merely including it. Why? Because it happened. In fact, in Elizabethan England, it would have been almost impossible to find a non-alcoholic beverage that was safe to drink.

Excuse me, I need to refill my glass.

So, in honor of me completing this drunk chapter and starting the hungover one (it will happen), I will share some deliciousness with you.

Sangria -- Prep Time: 5 minutes

Ingredients:

• 1 Bottle of red wine (Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Rioja reds, Zinfandel, Shiraz)
• 1 Lemon cut into wedges
• 1 Orange cut into wedges
• 2 Tbsp sugar
• 1 Shot brandy
• 2 Cups ginger ale or club soda

I added vodka instead of brandy. I also added halved grapes and diced apples instead of their fruit suggestions.

Now, back to writing. Mary has already had one goblet of lambic. The night is young... but tomorrow her hair of the dog will be Butter Beer (thank you J.K. Rowling and Heston Blumenthal).

The Muses Have Spoken

I am inspired! It's amazing. I knew the premise of my 3rd Courtly book, but, in watching my DVR recording of 'So You Think You Can Dance,' one of my least favorite dancers inspired me. There was this moment, when he had the girl clutched around the waist, trapped. She planted her feet on his thighs and pushed away. He struggled to hold. She was over him. Escaping. It was awesome.

So, watch out Jane! I knew you were going to meet your childhood sweetheart. I knew you had grown so much beyond him. I did not realize what a struggle it was going to be and how he would fight to hold you to who you were. You've grown -- you're different now. If you are going to reconnect with him, he'll have to accept that.

Very excited right now. I know, I'm only 1/2 through the 2nd Courtly book, but I'm thinking about you, Jane. Your time will come.

Astrology in Character Development

I was speaking with a friend the other day and she mentioned an author that used tarot cards as a way to help develop his plot. I shared that I had used an astrological chart for the leads of my first book.

I am currently reaching a stopping point with my WIP, partly because I've focused so much on the love story that I let the subplots stagnate. I realize I have to go back and layer the mystery element in order to have a more complete novel. But I was listing in regards to keeping Mary true to her character. Then again, with the focus on the love story, her character if fairly 2-D.

So, I ran her chart. Of course, she would have been born in 1546, but the online sources do not go back that far. And it doesn't matter anyway because she is fictional and the astrological chart is a tool for me.

Now I am not a believer in these things, nor do I belittle them. It is convenient that many of the character traits I've already created her with are mentioned in this. It also helps me determine some of her motivation and keep her consistent.

So, there we have it, courtesy of Astrolabe. I actually don't expect anyone to read on because, if you think this might be a useful tool, you will be looking up your own characters charts. BTW, how many people actually decide upon birth dates when designing a character?

Name: Mary Montgomery
January 12 1946
4:00 AM Time Zone is UT
Leicester, UK

Rising Sign is in 25 Degrees Scorpio
You tend to be quiet, reserved, secretive and, at times, quite difficult to understand. Others notice your deep emotions and feelings and wonder how to draw you out. Stubborn and tough, you fight for any position you believe in. You are very resourceful and formidable when you become angered or upset about something. You enjoy living life at the cutting edge -- for you life must be experienced intensely and totally. Quite courageous, you are willing to take calculated risks. Easily hurt by others, you often strike back with bitter sarcasm. Sensitive and curious, you are concerned with the deeper mysteries of human psychology. Once you have become interested in any subject, you pursue it with total fanaticism.

Sun is in 21 Degrees Capricorn.
Extremely serious and mature, you are capable of accepting responsibilities and do so willingly. Others expect you to be dutiful as a matter of course. You tend to get angry when people get rewards after not having worked anywhere near as hard as you. You are goal-oriented and an achiever by nature -- you're a hard worker and are justifiably proud of the tangible results of your efforts. You tend to have "tunnel-vision" -- this allows you to block out extraneous matters that might distract others and to concentrate totally on the matter at hand. As such, you are the ideal one to manage or administrate any ongoing project and to be practical and efficient at it. You are not a fast worker, but you are quite thorough. You are known for being totally persistent, tenacious and tireless in reaching your goals.

Moon is in 08 Degrees Taurus.
Warmth, comfort, security and familiar surroundings are necessary for you to feel at ease. Very loving and affectionate, you prefer a steady, patterned way of life. Patient, calm and steadfast, you are not easily upset. Others look to you for support. You tend to be a slow starter and a slow mover -- others may try to rush you, but they will never succeed. Emotionally, you are quite stubborn -- your attitudes about people and things were firmly set in your youth and will change very little as an adult. You are also very cautious and conservative about spending money. It is not that you are selfish, you just need to feel secure. Beware of a tendency to become overly complacent and too self-satisfied.

Mercury is in 03 Degrees Capricorn.
You are a careful thinker, very cautious and conservative. You are quite skillful at organizing, directing and planning activities. Practical and useful things interest you -- you are not attracted to abstract thoughts or ideas. With your tendency to be highly focused and very goal-oriented, you have a good head for business. But beware of a tendency to be narrow-minded and dogmatic. Your sense of humor tends toward being earthy and slapstick crude.

Venus is in 16 Degrees Capricorn.
You tend to keep your feelings under control -- emotions are only released in serious or important situations. You are distrustful of others whose behavior could be judged excessive or immoderate. As such, you prefer to relate only to those who are older than you or to those whose position is such that respect and duty are more important for both of you than passion or emotional response. Be careful, however, of relationships that are merely based on practicality or utility or you will ultimately be lonely.

Mars is in 24 Degrees Cancer.
Your moods are very important to your overall well-being. You are confident and self-assertive when you are feeling upbeat, and you are retiring, irritable and grumpy when you get depressed about anything. Very sensitive, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You are easily angered whenever you think someone has slighted you. It is best for you to show your anger immediately and let it all out, rather than to try to hold it in or to hold grudges for a long time. You're extremely loyal and defensive of your family, neighborhood, community and culture.

Jupiter is in 25 Degrees Libra.
You are generally good at balancing opinions and judging issues, but you tend to be indecisive when it comes to making up your own mind. You are objective and quite concerned with fair play and justice. But, when it comes to yourself, you are so aware that whatever you do might upset the apple cart that you often choose to compromise rather than do anything that might make you lonely or vulnerable. Relationships are very important to you -- you learn about yourself and grow through observing yourself interacting with others. Your aesthetic tastes are refined, but expansive and expensive.

Saturn is in 21 Degrees Cancer.
The most important issue for you is emotional security. You have a deep and gnawing fear that those on whom you depend for emotional support will prove to be unreliable in the long run. When you are unloved and insecure, you distrust others and tend to feel isolated and lonely. Very cool, detached and objective, you can be counted on -- in situations that are inherently stressful or full of tension -- not to lose your self- control. That is a great and welcome gift at such times.

Uranus is in 14 Degrees Gemini.
You, and your peer group as well, are attracted to new, unusual and revolutionary thoughts, ideas and lifestyles. You prefer abstract, idealistic solutions to practical, immediately useful answers. You delight in communications, the mass media, electronics, computers and all sorts of gadgetry.

Neptune is in 08 Degrees Libra.
You, and your entire generation, idealize all of the various experimental approaches to relationships -- including "living together", the formation of communes and collectives and the whole concept of "open" marriages. There is a stress on weakened commitments on an emotional and contractual level, but there are heightened expectations of the level of commitment and mutual support on the spiritual and metaphysical level.

Pluto is in 11 Degrees Leo.
For your entire generation, this is a time when the relationship of the individual to society as a whole is being thoroughly re-examined. Major attempts will be made to find a balance between the need to be self-sufficient and the need to honor debts of social commitment.

N. Node is in 29 Degrees Gemini.
You will consciously seek out many different contacts with others throughout your life. Many of these will be of very short duration, not necessarily because you're fickle, but just because you always seem to be more excited by the prospect of meeting someone new rather than prolonging your present relationships. At any rate, you will learn something new from almost everyone you come across -- intellectual stimulation is what you crave from others. You will be well known to neighbors and relatives, partly due to your curiosity about what they're doing -- you delight in keeping up-to-date about the latest news (and gossip).

Try a Little Tenderness

My 4 year old had a pretty high fever on and off all weekend. This involved lots of snuggle time, ice-packs, cool baths, jello, and ibuprofen. It was hard to see her so lethargic and listless, knowing we just had to wait it out (her tonsils were inflamed). Yesterday my five year old woke up from an impromptu nap (first sign something was wrong) with a fever. Then she started puking. This experience, while I was Mommy-on-the-spot and doing everything I could for her, was not so sweet and poignant. At that point, I was more irritated. Hadn't we just gone through this? And what's with the vomit? Sigh.

While laying on the couch with my sweaty, half-naked 5 year old, I picked up a book I had read years ago. It was about a husband and wife who had become estranged after the death of their infant son. Of course, it tugged my heart strings. How could it not? Was that why I had kept it over the years instead of lending it out indefinitely?

The romance genre has to touch our more tender sentiments, perhaps even make us verklempt. The reader has already been promised a happy ending (take that how you will), so if it was all about conflict resolution, there would be no point. Moving scenes of tenderness add a depth to the read. If a book makes me cry, it's usually a keeper.

That said, if a book is full of sap and makes me immune to the intended heart string tug, it becomes cheesy on a chick-flick level. And then there is the scene that could be moving, but is way too graphic in effort to be realistic and becomes gross. I become distracted by the, in my case, purple children's Motrin vomit, and not able to focus on what could be heart wrenching.

In summary, A little tenderness = good. Too much tenderness = overkill. Tender + Gross = Gross.

Are there scenes from books or films that you remember as particularly poignant? Does that affect how you qualify the movie/book as quality?