From Eileen...
Welcome readers!
From the moment I received THE CALL to my first book, what has remained constant is that finding pleasure in the process of writing is what is lasting and constant and important, not the vagaries of publishing. THE CALL how I view my vocation. I was put on the earth to tell stories...that's my path toward making the world more beautiful.
THE GHOSTS OF STONY CLOVE was my first published book, though it was the 3rd one I wrote. It received 17 rejections before it sold and went on to win a Rita award.
I feel VERY lucky that I mostly like my covers and DO have a say in their choice. But I thought the cover for my first adult novel, WALTZING IN RAGTIME was DREADFUL. My agent advised: put what you don't like about it in a short letter, point by point. It most likely won't change, but they may take your notions into account for the next cover. I followed her advice. Well, to my very great surprise and delight, they both listened and changed WALTZING's cover to artwork and a design that I thought was much more in keeping with the spirit of the book.
In addition to my writing career, I'm a teacher of special programs on writing (for all ages and grade levels) and a professional storyteller of Native American and Celtic tales. I also work as a tour guide at Boscobel Restoration, a lovely American Federal Period house and grounds here in the Hudson River Valley where I live.
My love of history, especially the muti-cultural history of America influences the stories I choose to tell ( they choose me too, of course!). I'm always pondering the nature of family, the transforming power of love, and what it means to be an American. And I'm terribly curious about finding out what happens next in a good, galloping story! I remember as a teen wanting to write stories like the authors I was discovering the great pleasures of...like Dickens and Austen, only I wanted to put some good, loving sex in, too!
The hardest part of writing for me is making enough money to contribute more fully toward the support of my family. But-- working in my pajamas and getting paid to read, research and write and even for dreamtime—a good life! Hmmm…not getting whacked on the knuckles by the nuns, but PAID for daydreaming? That is the Catholic schoolgirl's ultimate revenge!!
Thank you for taking the time to visit my site here in the Romance Club. I hope you’ll try one of my books and that I’ll hear from you. Let me leave you with three wishes:
May you be granted the grace of leaps of faith, hope, love and joy.
May you enrich the lives you touch and those you encounter know you as a light-bearer.
May your friends remember you in stories a thousand years
after you are gone.
Eileen
A Receipt for Writing a Novel
by Mary Alcock (1742-1798)
Would you a favrite novel make,
Try hard your readers heart to break
For who is pleasd, if not tormented?
(Novels for that were first invented.)
Gainst nature, reason, sense, combine
To carry on your bold design,
And those ingredients I shall mention,
Compounded with your own invention,
Im sure will answer my intention.
Of love take first in due proportion
It serves to keep the heart in motion:
Of jealousy a powerful zest,
Of all tormenting passions best;
Of horror mix a copious share,
And duels you must never spare;
Hysteric fits at least a score,
Or if you find occasion, more;
But fainting fits you need not measure,
The fair ones have them at their pleasure;
Of sighs and groans take no account,
But throw them in to vast amount;
A frantic fever you may add,
Most authors make their lovers mad.
Rack well your heros nerves and heart,
and let your heroine take her part;
Her fine blue eyes were made to weep,
Nor should she ever taste of sleep;
Ply her with terrors day or night,
And keep her always in a fright,
But in a carriage when you get her,
Be sure you fairly overset her;
If she will break her boneswhy let her:
Again, if eer she walks abroad,
Of course you bring some wicked lord,
Who with three ruffians snaps his prey,
And to the castle speeds away;
There close confind in haunted tower,
You leave your captive in his power,
Till dead with horror and dismay,
She scales the walls and files away.
Now you contrive the lovers meeting,
To set your readers heart a beating.
But ere theyve had a moments leisure,
Be sure to interrupt their pleasure;
Provide yourself with fresh alarms
To tear em from each others arms;
No matter by what fate theyre parted,
So that you keep them broken-hearted.
A cruel father some prepare
To drag her by her flaxen hair;
Some raise a storm, and some a ghost,
Take either, which may please you most.
But this with care you must observe,
That when youve wound up every nerve
With expectation, hope and fear,
Hero and heroine must disappear.
Now to rest the writers brain,
Any story that gives pain,
You now throw inno matter what,
However foreign to the plot,
So it but serves to swell the book,
You foist it in with desperate hook
A masquerade, a murderd peer,
His throat just cut from ear to ear
A rake turnd hermita fond maid
Run mad, by some false loon betrayd
These stores supply your writers pen,
And write them oer and oer again,
And readers likewise may be found
To circulate them round and round.
Now at your fables close devise
Some grand event to give surprise
Suppose your hero knows no mother
Suppose he proves the heroines brother
This at one stroke dissolves each tie,
Far as from east to west they fly;
At length when every woes expended,
And your last chapters nearly ended,
Clear the mistake, and introduce
Some tattling nurse to cut the noose,
The spell is brokeagain they meet
Expiring at each others feet;
Their friends lie breathless on the floor
You drop your pen; you can no more
And ere your reader can recover,
Theyre married and your historys over.
|
