ARE YOU GAME TO CHANGE YOUR BOOK TITLE? WEP October challenge--CONSTELLATIONS/HALLOWEEN!

Hello fellow scribes!

It's the September/October school holidays in Oz, so I'm chilling at the beach. Hard to think about blogging, but I can't leave Crystal Collier's cover reveal up forever!

George Santayana said: "To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring." I don't know. We Aussies are hopelessly in love with every season except summer. In these days of global warming, it's just way too hot and we're sick of getting melanomas cut out! So at the mo', we're enjoying beautiful spring weather and that means the sun, surf and sand and relaxing.

I keep a special desk on the deck so I can ponder the Pacific blue.

So, after much pondering I came up with a post!

Book Titles.

We writers can be overprotective and pathological hoverers when it comes to book titles.

Okay. We’ve made the monumental effort of producing a book. Maybe the monumental effort of choosing the title is the final hurdle we have to jump over. 

Or maybe we think it’s no-one’s business but our own what we call our little darling.

If you’re traditionally published, a book’s title is subject to hot debate and sometimes you have little/no input. 

The creative and commercial worlds collide.

Usually, the commercial wins.

But I did a little research and found that history shows us that that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Here are a few title changes which should warm your heart, and help us to trust editors and others when they offer advice re the title of your baby.

• The Jewboy became Whacking Off which then became Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint.
• Jane Austen’s father submitted an early version of her second novel, First Impressions. It was rejected, only to re-emerge as Pride and Prejudice.
• Jacqueline Susann’s They Don’t Build Statues to Businessmen became Valley of the Dolls.
• How about 1984. George Orwell’s The Last Man in Europe doesn’t quite have the ring. Changing its name resulted in commercial success.
• One of my favourite stories—the publisher Faber plucked Strangers from Within from the slush pile. With some masterful editing, it became Lord of the Flies. Say no more.
• Margaret Mitchell's blockbuster Gone With the Wind was tentatively titled Tomorrow is Another Day.

Now if you’re self-published, as more and more of us are these days, you don’t have whole marketing departments, sales teams, book chains and publicity directors clamouring over your book, demanding the commercial title of their choice.

You may say, just as well. My title is sacrosanct.

Is it?

After reading some of the examples above, maybe we should pay closer attention to our titles and throw them out there for opinions other than our own.

What do you think?

In 2015 I dusted off a manuscript from 2010, a story which I’ve always thought of as The Perfect Silence of the Night. One night as I was creating in my head instead of sleeping, I had another title pop up (fired by Michael di Gesu’s blurb). So my paranormal romance which I self-published for Halloween last year (having not submitted it to any traditional publishers—maybe next time), has the new title—Under the Tuscan Moon. And I couldn’t be happier!

Now I'm pondering the title for my contemporary women's fiction/chick lit/women's fiction...whatever...

My working title has always been Carpe Diem. Then I began thinking, maybe not everyone knows that Latin saying...maybe they'll think it's about a special Catholic mass. Then I thought of adding Art and Love in Paris (the hero is an artist) as a sub-title to replace Paris Never Leaves You. Then I thought of The Art of Loving in Paris, then decided that could be mistaken for porno or erotica. Hmm. Tricky things, titles.

I know you've got better things to do, but if you have a suggestion for my title, I hope you'll leave it in the comments.

I'm curious. Have you ever changed your book title? Had to run with one your publisher chose and you hated? Please tell us...

Thanks for stopping by. Would you believe blogspot had a glitch and I had to write this twice, so if it doesn't altogether make sense, that's because who likes to write a blog post twice? I mean, I'd rather be pondering how many shades of blue there are in the Pacific Ocean.

The October Write...Edit...Publish challenge is looming! There is a choice of themes: CONSTELLATIONS or HALLOWEEN, or if you're very, very clever, a combination of both! So get your little sci-fi, fantasy or horror brains around the next challenge. Linky goes up October 1! Should be a double hoot!

Two of the best Christmas recipes ever - Toblerone Cheesecake and Toblerone Cocktail...yum...

On Boxing Day I'll need to sit on the elf seat at the beach and think about
 New Year's Resolutions re food and drink, lol!

Well there are so many serious posts out there for you to read, but I thought I'd lighten up the atmosphere and try to fatten you all up with a couple of absolutely delicious Christmas recipes fitting for an Aussie Christmas at the beach. I don't know, maybe if you're snowed in you could make the Toblerone Cocktail by scooping up a cup of snow? And you don't have to worry about keeping your glasses chilled, lol! And cheesecake is good to go any time of year, isn't it?

I posted both these recipes to rave reviews last year and some bloggers contacted me to say they'd actually made and enjoyed them so much. So I thought I'd share them again in case you weren't around last year.

Here are my two favourite Christmas recipes (apologies to Weight Watchers) we'll be enjoying again on Christmas night as we listen to the Pacific Ocean roar.

TOBLERONE CHEESECAKE

Ingredients:

1 cup plain chocolate biscuit crumbs

1/2 cup caster sugar (I no longer add sugar. You don't need it!)
1/2 cup thickened cream
1/4 cup ground almonds
200g TOBLERONE Milk or Dark Chocolate for shaving 
200g TOBLERONE Milk or Dark Chocolate, melted
500g block PHILADELPHIA Cream Cheese, softened
80g butter, melted


Instructions:

Combine biscuit crumbs, butter and almonds, press into the base of a lightly greased 20cm springform pan. Chill.

Beat PHILADELPHIA and sugar using an electric mixer until smooth. Beat in the melted Toblerone and cream until well combined.

Pour onto the prepared crumb base and refrigerate 2 to 3 hours until set, or overnight. Serve topped with the TOBLERONE shavings.

This only takes about 15 minutes to prepare. I always bring it along when asked to provide dessert.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TOBLERONE COCKTAIL

We like to make what we call a Toblerone (like a mudslide) for after Christmas Tea. It makes a delicious change after all the wine or whatever you've been sipping during the day along with the odd majito or two! And it really takes the place of dessert.

In a blender throw some icy cold milk, a few scoops of vanilla ice cream, shots of any liquor you have left - (Tia Maria, Kahlua, Frangelico, Cointreau, Bailey's Irish Creme - get the drift - not all!! but you need the Bailey's and about three others), whizz for a bit. Get some parfait glasses or somesuch out of the freezer (or snow, lol!) 

Artistically drizzle (if you can keep your hand steady by this stage) melted Cadbury's chocolate or Toblerone chocolate or at the very least, chocolate sauce, around the inside of the glass (do you like my Eiffel Tower?), then gently pour in the mix. Top with whipped cream if you're absolutely disgusting! And why not some hunks of Toblerone or chocolate sauce if you're determined to milk this for all it's worth!

Sip reverently.

• All right now! Can you beat that? Tell me please, what is your favourite Christmas recipe???

PS The next two posts are also Aussie Christmas related...


Happy Christmas!

#Friday flash - HIGH TIDE

HIGH TIDE

It was foolish to come back. This hated place held too many memories, too many secrets. But they were memories and secrets she could no longer ignore. What had happened in the past, what had happened to her here, had haunted her and refused to let go.


So here she was.

She shut her eyes against the peaceful sounds. The ocean’s regular rhythm, the seagulls’ calls, the far-off cry of a child. She wanted no part of peace; just coming back had thrown her spirit into turmoil, a place where there was no peace.


Opening her eyes, she looked around. There it was, the beach house, its timbers broken and exposed. Over the intervening years the relentless tides had eaten away at its foundations. It now teetered on the edge of the dunes, on its knees in the sand, ready to surrender to the next king tide.


But today the ocean held no threat, its gentle waves were lapping the sand, leaving a trail of silvery froth and grit. She fell to her knees onto the wet, silky sand, her body hunched over. Memories of that night came rushing in like a tidal surge.

At times she had almost forgotten why she had been running away from her memories for so long. She had shared her dark secret with the world but had hidden it from herself most of the time. But the mind was tenacious, it held on to things, remembered things best forgotten. Here today, confronted with the physical triggers to traumatic events, her mind was searching its dark recesses, unearthing hidden secrets which had been buried. Through the years, in her silent moments, she had heard it speaking so softly, in the gentlest of whispers, as it tried to speak to her of its memories, its stored secrets. Then there were the other times where she felt her pain come rushing to the surface without warning, hurtling through her like a runaway train, threatening to derail her altogether.

She cried there, hunched in the wet sand, her solitary figure sobbing hot tears. She no longer wanted to carry that heavy hurt, she wanted the pain and sorrow to be but a distant memory.

She had to face the pain head on if she was ever going to find healing…

***

It was a night when the wind roared.

The Pacific waters rose and fell in a dance of wave and tide outside her window. When the winds calmed, the moon rose and sat outside her window.

She’d been dreaming of the sea again. It happened every night. This night, she opened her eyes and watched the moonlight creep across her bed like a soft lover’s caress. The sheets were tangled and fell over the bed like waves. She kicked off the covers and threw herself across the bed like a marionette without strings.

The moonlight dancing on her bare skin revealed her beauty. Its gentle light overlooked the angry welts criss-crossing her pale legs. She groaned in agony. The welts throbbed, but she had no ointments to ease the pain. But that was his intention. He wanted her to suffer.

She could hear his loud breathing coming from the next room. Loud snuffles and snorts as he slept the sleep of the damned. She heard him tossing and turning and prayed that he stayed asleep. For a long time.

***

‘You will not marry that infidel!’ he’d screamed.

‘Ahmed? An infidel?’ she’d yelled. ‘He is of the same religion as we are. You know this.’

A vicious fist across her mouth.

‘You will marry who I say. It was decided when you were born. Abdul will be your husband!’ he spat.

His eyes had turned red with rage and he’d reached for his belt. She couldn’t believe what had happened. Her father had always been remote, but to her he had been the gentlest of men.

‘Father!’ she’d screamed, ‘don’t do this!’


The hard leather bit into her soft skin. The pure force of his anger made the blows harder to bear. He had been taken over by a brute force, hate. Her heart broke afresh with every whop of the tough hide.

‘I will kill you!’ he’d screeched.


‘Mumma, help!’ she’d pleaded to the black-clad figure cringing in the dark corner. Her mother remained silent but her eyes communicated her pain as she flinched and whimpered with every blow.

***

Night after night. Day after day. The beatings continued. Only the moonlight and the night sounds were her friends. Her door was bolted against the outside world. The food was passed in, served without love, eaten without relish. No-one spoke to her. She had become a prisoner.

But she was not going to remain one.

He had forgotten the faulty lock on her window. She had remembered.

The crashing waves were coming closer and closer as high tide approached. Soon the water would be just below her window. She could hear its relentless pummelling. The sound and rhythm reminded her of her father’s blows which continued without mercy. He would not be denied his will. She would never marry Abdul. An impasse. She was her father’s daughter after all. She would die before giving in to such an archaic arrangement.

There was a big storm earlier in the night. It would cover her tracks nicely. She hadn’t been able to communicate with Ahmed but he knew what was happening. She’d heard his thumping on her father’s door. She’s heard his pleas, his angry yells as her father’s friends dragged him away.


She knew he was waiing for her beyond the dunes.

The sea called to her. The scraping window drew her into the bright night. A soft splash and she was swimming in the whirling tide. It first dragged her out to sea, then pushed her towards the shore. She swam for her life, her robe tangling around her feet like a shroud. But she was not going to drown. She tugged at the sopping material then swam harder, using all her strength to surf to the beach before the tide sucked her back again.

She was thrown head first in an untidy tangle onto the gritty sand. She scrambled to her feet, lifted her heavy robe above her knees and ran for the safety of the dunes.

Ahmed whispered my name.

***

He saw her as he stood on top of the dunes, next to the crumbling wreck that had been her home, then her prison. A few long stides and he was by her side. He gently lifted her and cradled her and rocked her and their baby as she cried in his arms.

His own eyes were full of tears and pain.

THE BEGINNING

©Denise Covey, 2010

Butterfly Award and ramblings of a returning blogger

Noosa Main Beach

Hey, miss me? I've been away up on the Sunshine Coast (100 km's north of Brisbane) spending some good times with my daughters. It was fabulous, but I decided to put the netbook away and just take a break.

Anyways, lots has been happening in the blogosphere while I've been catching some rays, wining, dining and coffee-ing and gazing at gob-smackingly beautiful scenery, so it'll take awhile to catch up. Oh, and look! Nearly 100 followers! How did that happen??

I've missed a blogfest (shock! horror!) so sorry to Shelley from Stories in the Ordinary who hosted the I Can't Say It Blogfest. I've been reading some entries and they're darned good. Pop over if you can.

Some lovelies have dropped by and left me some awards to pick up, so this will take some time. This is the point of this blog post and I'm finally getting to it. Blah! Blah! I'm so verbose.

Due to such a concentrated busy time to-ing and fro-ing between blogs, I realise what a PAIN word verification is! And the blogs who even want your email address! I just want to run away and leave no comment. Too much time! Look, if the odd alien pops in to leave a comment I can live with that, can't you? So how about going into settings and turning off word verification! Pretty please??? Do we really need it??? If there is a good reason to keep it, please tell...

Anyways, the lovely missali (a fellow Aussie) from Love Miss Ali,  has given me the Butterfly Award (which will be added to my awards slideshow later.) To collect I have to tell you what makes me smile. Hmm, now that's not too difficult. I'll be buzzing around looking for bloggers to pass this on to who might have something to smile about too!

WHAT MAKES ME SMILE

• 
  
  The ocean - there's something about the ocean view that always inspires me
• 
  
  Love - maybe this should be first, as what could be lovelier than love? Husband, kids, friends, family, views, blogging...
• 
  
  Chocolate in any guise - smile, smile, smile
• 
  
  Coffee - especially when a favourite barista adds a special design on top just because I make him smile with the amount of coffee he makes for me.
• 
  
  A scene that sparkles - more than a smile, a holler, a whoop!
• 
  
  Seeing a place for the first time when travelling. Hard to wipe the smile off my face.
• 
  
  Blogger friends who award me - thank you for making me smile

That's just skimming the surface. Have a great day all!

Brisbane is now my home

You know what they say - home is where the heart is - and no matter where you are it is good to feel at home. Now I've moved from the very beautiful Peregian Beach to Brisbane, only a 160 km trip, yet another world. My view from my desk at Peregian was of the Pacific Ocean. I could see surfers, whales in season, and kiteboarders and walkers. My view from my desk in Brisbane couldn't be more different - I can see my kitchen! Wow! So really I have no distractions, I should be able to write and write and write! Here's to anything that'll keep me out of the kitchen!!! I even have a bed behind me, hmmm, feeling a bit tired????