What do the words ‘writer’s block’ mean to you?
Aggravation and frustration come to mind, but through the years, I’ve learned that for me writer’s block means 1 of 2 things; I’m either incorrectly starting or navigating a scene or I’m not thinking clearly on what a particular character should be doing/saying/reacting to/feeling/remembering at the moment. Usually, I find turning my attention to something else, such as cleaning, grocery shopping, or eve going back and re-reading chapters, frees up whatever is weighing me down and revives the muse toward the direction I need to go.
Do you read your book reviews? If yes, how do you process negative reviews?
I do read my reviews and I enjoy sharing some of them on my social media platforms. For those negative reviews, at the time of reading, they do bring on sadness, but I push through the day and after a night’s sleep, they’re at the back of mind and I’m on to something else. In this business, I know I’m not going to please everyone with my work, but as long as I please myself, I’ve done something right. If I don’t like the characters or the story, I’m sure none of you will.
If you could time travel, would you go back or forward in time?
If I could, I’d go back in time. I’d love to experience the old west, but more importantly, I’d love to visit with my father and grandparents again.
In one word, describe yourself.
Neat-freak. My son will be the first to tell you I have OCD issues. Think Monica on Friends and that’s me.
Do you find yourself getting emotional when you write? Is there a scene that sticks out as being the most emotional to write?
Most of the time, writing those emotional scenes is challenging. I find myself agonizing over every word because I worry whether or not the reader will feel the character’s grief and heartache based on the way I’ve written the scene, on the words I’ve chosen. I think the only scene I wrote that made me misty was from No Luck At All when Racine poured out her childhood heartaches and her low self-esteem to Creel.
What are you working on now? Can you give us a sneak peek?
Currently, I’m not working on anything. I’m percolating an idea in the back of my mind while I tend to other writing matters, but I did just release the 3rd book in my Jackson Creek Series: Hunter.
Hunter can be purchased here: www.amazon.com/dp/B09KNL43X9
Hunter Barlow is certain nothing can heal the bruises he’s sustained, then Tawny’s bright eyes set his heart to thumping.
“Sunday’s are boring,” Myrna said. “Wipe away the doldrums, Tawny, and tell Burke about the fellow.”
Burke angled his head her direction, stared pointedly at her.
“There’s nothing to tell. He saw us in the alley, said hello and rode away.” Because Myrna embarrassed him. Powerful legs encased in black trousers, stubble along his jaw and a straight nose; he is dreamy and—
“You’re blushing,” Myrna giggled. “You’re ensnared with him, as he is with you.”
“He’s not ensnared with me,” Tawny retorted. “He’s a stranger passing through.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stem the heat staining her skin. “I think I’ll make a pot of tea. You want a cup?” she asked Burke the same time the batwing doors flapped open. Swiveling around, her gaze fell on a gun belt strapped around a slim waist. Looking up, she took in a chest thick with muscle beneath a leather vest, stubble along a square jaw, full lips and… She swallowed hard, wiped her palms on the sides of her robe. Staring back at her were the dark eyes belonging to the handsome stranger.
“Ma’am.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Is the owner around?”
Are his eyes black? Or brown? Tawny peered closer.
“Landry ain’t here,” Burke said. “Come back in the morning.”
“I will,” the stranger promised, smiling at her.
A ribbon of warmth shimmied down her spine and she rubbed her palms harder along her robe. And then, she sobered. Forget his eyes! And his sinew. He’s trouble.
“Before I do,” he continued with Burke, though his gaze never left her, “I need a woman.”
“Got three of them,” Burke said. “But I think you already made your choice.”
“I did.” His smile broadened and that ribbon of warmth wrapped around her stomach.
“Seeings how this is Tawny’s night off, her fee is double,” Burke advised.
A shiver moved through her as the stranger’s gaze slowly traveled the length of her and then moved past her to Burke. “I ain’t looking for a tumble. I’m a sergeant with the army, sent here to help with the Apache. I need her to cook and clean for the captain and me. The woman the mayor hired left town.”
An army man! Needing a housekeeper. Hope surged through Tawny. She could begin shedding her reputation this very night, have that freedom she craved sooner than she thought, that is if he had a job for her at the fort from which he’d come. Or knew of someone who did.
“I accept,” she said before Burke could decline.
Thank you for having me as your guest today, Rhonda. I enjoy a career writing western romance. I also enjoy romance readers and chatting about the genre. If any of your readers would like to connect with me, they can do so at the following:
Facebook page: https://facebook.com/#!/JulieLence