The future is yesterday

Okay, I’m just not the most tech savvy person out there, but I’m trying to merge my blog and the website clareaustin.com. With the help of the Cyber Kelpies, I might make this work.

From minor breakdown to Golden Heart finalist, with horses thrown in.

Introducing Colette Auclair and her wonderful, witty writing. Thanks for being on my blog today!

I hope you enjoy this new author. Please leave a comment for Colette. I will pick a random comment and that contributor will receive an e-book copy of one of my novels.

Colette and her mare, Brooke

First off, I’d like to thank Clare for my first guest blog post! It’s an honor to play in this happy blog habitat.

My first book, Thrown, recently finaled in this year’s RWA Golden Heart contest in the Contemporary Single Title category. You might think it’s about a sport involving a ball or discus, or perhaps a WWF smackdown. But no, it’s about two characters who are (forgive me for this) thrown together because of horses and then (ready?) thrown for a loop when they fall in love. Does someone get thrown from a horse? You’ll have to wait until it’s published to find out.

This all started because I wanted to write a screenplay and I wasn’t. After having a minor breakdown on the couch one morning that caused my husband to offer to send me to a screenwriting workshop, seminar, conference, cruise, Ph.D. program or a year of private lessons in Tahiti with Nora Ephron–anything, just so I’d please stop crying–I took an online screenwriting class. I ended up with a fifteen-page outline, or treatment, for a romantic comedy based on The Sound of Music–only mine had horses instead of music, a grand prix jumper rider instead of a governess/almost-nun, a hottie movie star instead of Christopher Plummer’s sea captain, Aspen instead of Austria and a manipulative grandmother instead of Nazis. (Although the Nazis would have been happy to have her.)

Treatment completed, class completed, it was time to write the script. Problem was, I couldn’t get the scene after the closing credits–something I’d never use–out of my head. So I wrote it in prose so my characters would pipe down and let me write their movie for them.

And I’ve never had more fun writing anything. Which is saying something, because I’ve been privileged to write some outlandishly fun things like TV commercials in my day job as a copywriter.

I told myself I’d write the story as a novel merely so I could get to know my characters better. The words flowed, I hated leaving my computer, and voila, four months later I had inadvertently written a full-blown romance novel. All thoughts of screenwriting vanished. I found my calling.

It was like finding all the “buttons” on a horse you’re riding. Ride after ride, you get to know the horse, you discover that if you’ll just keep your left hand still, the horse stays straight, and if you don’t “yell” with your outside leg, the canter transition will be smooth instead of a buck. Then one day, everything clicks. You only have to think of what you want and the horse does it, happily. The two of you become one. That’s how if felt as I wrote Thrown. My writing had found its dream horse.

Now I’m fully committed to getting published, no matter what. I’m polishing my second book, Love in the Time of Colic, and have scads more story ideas–all involving horses somewhere, somehow. I hope romance (and horse) fans will enjoy reading my books as much as I love writing them.

Excerpt from Thrown

Setup: Amanda, the riding instructor, slipped on the poorly designed barn floor and hurt her back. Grady, her movie-star employer, feels guilty that she got hurt and has brought her dinner in bed.

Grady let out a huge sigh and switched on the lamp on the bedside table. This guest room was closest to the kitchen and the front door. It had a king-size bed, a wall-mounted flat screen TV, a full bathroom, and a sage-and-purple color scheme.
Amanda’s hair was tousled and her eyes were drowsy. The tank top rode up to reveal a couple inches of a toned stomach, which he ordered himself not to look at.
“Hiiii!” she said again. The word rose and fell over several roller-coaster syllables. “These muscle relaxers are awesome.”
“You don’t say.”
“I’m not gonna pull a Rush Limbaugh or anything. I just feel all floaty. You brought me dinner?”
“Soup, courtesy of Harris.”
“Harris. I love Harris. He’s so cute. And he cooks. If only he weren’t gay…Where is he?”
“He came by, but you were sleeping. How’re you feeling?”
“You’re pretty cute too.” She bit her lower lip.
He ignored this. “I told Jacqueline everything you told me about taking care of the horses, so between the two of us and the girls, we should be fine. And,” he said sheepishly, “I promise I’ll replace that floor as soon as possible. I had Jacqueline call for estimates.”
“Good.” She nodded vehemently, then stopped. “Whoa. Dizzy.”
“Want some soup?”
“You’re so nice to bring me dinner. So nice and soo cute!”
“Let’s see.” He presented the tray so she could see the food. “You’ve got lobster bisque, a fresh fruit salad and a hunk of what I believe he called ‘crusty artisan bread’—Tuscan, to be precise. Sparkling water. Dark chocolate—it’s Vosges.” He pronounced it correctly, vohj. “The good stuff. I had to talk him out of sending a get-well martini.”
“Look at you—always thinking of my liver.” She smiled.
“Among other parts,” he muttered. “Voila.” He unfolded the little legs on the tray, placed it on her lap and unfurled a light green linen napkin for her.
“Come sit with me.” She patted the mattress beside her.
“I should be going.”
“I could fall asleep and drown in the bisque.”
He sighed. “All right. But just for a minute.” He moved around the bed and sat next to her. Amanda smiled brightly as though he had just given her a Hanoverian stallion and custom-made saddle. She dipped her spoon into the soup and frowned, then slowly lifted the spoon to her lips and slurped. She looked like it was her first day working with spoons, bowls and soup. She was silent for several forays, then spoke.
“Your kids like the push-ups.”
He looked at her. “That’s the drugs talking.”
She took another spoonful. “Not the push-ups per se—push-ups per se, thass funny! What I mean is, they like riding, right?”
“Okay?”
“So I’ve solved the mystery of the nannies.”
“What mystery of the nannies?”
“Why they don’t like their nannies. They like riding. You know why?”
“Wild guess, but because it’s fun? And by the way, if you hadn’t noticed, you are really high right now.”
“Partly because it’s fun. But they behave for me. I gotta say, I was worried at firss.
“Did you know Harris called me the shit? I’m the shit, Grady.” She waved a hand at him. “Kids beg their parents to get me as their trainer. And I come here and I get, ‘My horse is ugly! I’ll die if I have to brush my horse.’” She whined to bolster her imitation. “So I said to myself, Amanda, you’re the shit. You teach them like you’d teach anyone else. No special treatment, even though their dad is all dreamy and a big fat star.
“Did you know I haven’t taught raw beginners since, like, college?”
Grady was staring at her, mouth open. Watching her was like watching a member of a newly discovered tribe on a remote island. He realized she was waiting for his response, so he said, “No, I didn’t.”
“I made an exception for you. For them. And they’re coming around now. But at first I thought they were spoiled rotten brats. But now I like them—they’re fun. They tried to pull stuff on me but I didn’t put up with it. And do you know why?”
Again, it took him a second to realize she expected an answer. “Because you’re the shit?”
“Damn straight! You can be the shit too, you know. Juss set some rules. Makes ’em feel like you care. When they came into my barn—and don’t get me wrong, I know it’s your barn, but you know what I mean—I told them no swearing and now they don’t swear. I juss tole them. And I carry through on the push-ups. Oh sure, I had to groom their horses—well, Rainy, because Wave was down with the grooming right away—but Solstice came around. I bored her into it.” She paused to slip a spoonful of bisque into her hard-working mouth.
“I mean, come on, who wants to watch someone brush a horse?” She poked his arm with her spoon. “It’s freakin’ dull. Now they’re happy to groom their own horses. It’s basic horse training, psychological stuff. You make the thing you want the animal to do seem like it’s the animal’s idea.”
“And my daughters are the animals?” He didn’t like this, but she was so funny right now, he wasn’t all that bothered.
“Grady, we’re all animals. It’s how our brains work. We’re all about survival. Maslow’s Ladder. We’re hardwired to want safety. Food. Sex. All that.”
She had to mention sex. He was grateful the tray hid her midriff.
She continued. “And what’s with their names? Were you guys hippies or something?” She slurped more bisque. “Oops!” She giggled as lobster bisque dribbled down her chin.
“Here.” He dabbed at her chin with the napkin. “I think Annie did it to bug my mom.”
Amanda looked dreamy and sultry all at once, even though she just called his girls brats and animals.
She stared at him, blinked in slow motion, and continued. “Thanks. Yeah, all you have to do is do what I did and make ’em do stuff. Rules. Response…responsblitty. Responsibility,” she finally managed, crinkling her brows in concentration. “Give ’em choices.” Looking back at the bowl, she carefully slid a bisque-laden spoon into her mouth. “Mmm. This is deliss…delshish…good.”
“So you don’t think I’m a good father?”
“I think you’re a hot father.”
Suddenly, Amanda set her spoon down and wonderingly, gently touched his hair. She looked at it with the queerest expression of awe, like a Woodstock attendee after the acid kicked in.
“Mmm, nice,” she said softly, and furrowed her fingers through the thick mass of dark wavy hair, then pulled his head to hers as though gearing up for a kiss. “Sexy.” Her traveling fingers landed at the nape of his neck and tickled him. Grady found this extremely arousing and thoroughly unnerving, so he took her hand and guided it back down to the vicinity of the spoon and tried to ignore his body’s response.
“More soup?” he asked quickly.
She picked up the spoon absently. “Nah. Nap. Sleepy,” she murmured as her eyes closed.

Horses, writing and happy endings


Shhh…. I love a happy ending.

Why am I whispering? Because I’m a mystery author and mystery authors are all about mystery, suspense, danger, and dead bodies, right?

Right. And …

Truth be told, sure — a satisfying ending is one that puts the world back to rights and has justice and right coming out on top, if sometimes a little battered in the process. But …

That happy ending can also mean two people find each other and sparks fly.

The reader in me loves sparks, too, especially happy ones. There’s nothing like passion to hook me into a story. Nothing like putting your heart on the line to keep those pages turning.

As a writer, it’s important I remember passion comes in many varied packages.

Thea Campbell, the protagonist of my series, is a passionate young woman. And not only does she have a sexy guy she’s passionate about (and would gladly throw herself in front of a speeding train for, if it meant saving his life), but she’s passionate about her family and her horse as well.

Her horse?

Yes. She has a special connection with her very special horse. You might even say a “psychic connection.” Yes, you could actually say that.

Many moons ago, when I conceived of the idea of a mystery series featuring a young woman, I gave her a horse. I know horses. In my away-from-the-computer life, I ride, teach and train dressage. I’ve been horse-crazy all my life. From the moment I could read a sentence I tracked down and read every book I could get my hands on with a horse in it. I was Alec Ramsey in the Black Stallion books, I rode with Billy and Blaze, loved Dorothy Lyons’ novels, devoured Dick Francis. I knew a horse had to be in my mysteries, and not just as scenery. The horse had to be a character, and so Blackie — short for The Black Queen’s Bishop — was born. Thea loves him, and Paul had better never, ever ask her to choose between him and Blackie. Not that he would. If you have an affinity for animals — particularly horses — you understand completely, and will recognize yourself in Thea’s heart.

The fourth of the Thea Campbell mysteries, BushWhacked, is due to be out in May and Blackie still plays a role — after all, Thea always has something to learn from him.

And, you may ask, what about the happy ending? Are sparks still flying between Thea and Paul? Even after four books?

Oh, my.

I don’t think you’ll be disappointed — either with the sparks or the “justice accomplished” happy ending.

Happy reading!

Susan can be stalked, followed, and generally run to earth for a chat at these locations:

Twitter
Website: http://www.susanschreyer.com
Blog: Writing Horses http://writinghorses.blogspot.com
Blog: Things I Learned From My Horse http://thingsilearnedfrommyhorse.blogspot.com

All four of the Thea Campbell Mysteries are available in e-book format and trade paperback at the following locations:
Amazon.com: http://tinyurl.com/7ma39hm
Smashwords.com: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SusanSchreyer
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/susan-schreyer
And most e-book and trade paper back retailers

Susan is giving away her ebook  Death by a Dark Horse to one of the readers who leaves a comment.

Author Susan Schreyer here Monday, April 30

Author Susan Schreyer will be here to give you a sneak peek at her new novel Bushwhacked. This is the fourth novel in her Thea Campbell Mystery series. I am currently reading the first book, Death by a Dark Horse. If you love a good mystery spiced up with romance and written with humor and pathos, you are sure to enjoy this series. Be here Monday and hear what Susan has to tell you about Bushwhacked.

To learn more about Susan, her writing and her horses, please go to her web site at http://www.susanschreyer.com/

Stay home and rest!!!

How often has your doctor, your husband, or your best friend given you that advice? And, how often have you fought the idea?

I am currently going through “post concussion” syndrome. For me it means I’m just a bit more out of touch with reality than usual.

I don’t really know what happened to me. One moment I was trotting quietly around the arena with my pretty little mare, happy as a clam, calm and relaxed. The next I was sitting on a step having lost several minutes of my life.That in itself would be frustrating, but to be told to rest, take it easy, not ride my horse, not drive, read or play my violin…that’s impossible.

I took it easy, didn’t drive for a couple of days, stayed off my horse for a few days. But, I’m a rider and that means I ride six days a week. There is a definite difference in my attitude toward life when I haven’t been on my horse for a few days. 

I do wear a helmet and, since I fell on mine, I bought a new one. I know there are still riders out there who say “my head is harder than the dirt” but, just so you know where I stand…it’s not!

I’ve ridden horses since I was a wee girl and I’ve taken my lumps but I’ve never been knocked unconscious before. I like my brain and I want to keep it as healthy as possible. It allows me to write my novels, play a few tunes on my fiddle and be an enthusiastic companion to the man I love. 

I’ll rest, but I’ll not overdo that either. I’ll ride and I will wear my helmet.

If you are a rider, or someone who loves a rider, and you have an opinion, I’d love to have you post your comments.

A story for women and the men who love them


If you enjoy an in-depth story of relationships and the challenges of blending families, and a sizzling hot romance set in the exciting world of equestrian sport, this novel will capture your imagination and, hopefully, your heart.

I wrote Hot Flash for you. I hope you enjoy it.

Clare

My novels are available from online booksellers, The Wild Rose Press and selected book stores throughout the U.S., Ireland, the U.K. and Australia in paperback and e-book editions.
If you would like an autographed copy of any of my books

A writer’s intimate details!

Virtual Book Tour

Please stop by September 20 to http://lainamolaski.com/ LIana’s Blog, Being Fabulous is a Skill. Learn all the intimate details of a writer’s life!!
http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/search?q=Hot+Flash