Trope-Tastic Tuesdays: The Lost Lenore

(Parts of this were originally published on March 28, 2013)

Trope: The Lost Lenore

Description: The Lost Lenore is a dead love interest of one of the main characters. Not only is she dead, her absence has a profound effect on the character for the rest of the work, to the point where it influences the plot. Lost Lenores can either be dead at the beginning of the story or die early on, but either way, it's the reaction to her death that determines if she qualifies for this trope. Just being dead isn't enough; it's whether or not she has the same level of significance, if not more, as she would if she were alive. While they're often female, every now and then a male Lost Lenore pops up.

Examples: Lenore from The Raven (duh), April from Rent, Ellie from Up, Glenn from Fire Emblem: Three Houses (as an aside, holy shit, is there a lot of fanfic about a character who never even appears on screen)

Pros: Love is powerful and can even transcend death. A Lost Lenore can also be the inspiration for all sorts of plots for the lover she left behind, from some soul-searching and self-discovery to kick-ass vengeance. In romance, the audience is touched if the hero is able to work through his grief and learn to love again.

Cons: It can be hard to land in the sweet spot of "has grieved appropriately and is ready to move on." As always, this is subjective, and what might be "too soon" to one reader is another reader's "what took so long?" Tone is important to keep in mind here, too, as anything overly cheery will feel incongruous right after Lost Lenore's death. Also, considering they're dead (or die quickly), Lost Lenores can be difficult to develop and make into three-dimensional characters.

Would/Did I Use It?: Meyta from Disintegration definitely qualifies. That's not a spoiler, it's in the blurb of the book. She's dead by the second chapter, but don't think for a moment that she'll be easily forgotten. (And that's all I'll say about her, as I don't want to reveal true spoilers!) I also have a less-common male example in Kevin, April's dead husband in Elysium. Not only is she still grieving him at the start of the book, which kicks off the plot, but a simulation of him actually shows up at one point via virtual reality. What would Poe have to say about THAT, hmm?

Nothing to Be Afraid of Here

We're well into October, and everywhere I look, people are embracing the Halloween season. Honestly, I don't have strong feelings either way about Halloween. I mean, it's fun enough, but I was never the type to go completely crazy over it. And I'm old enough to think having leftover candy in the house is more dangerous than fun.

With that blasphemous intro, I'm sure I've lost a lot of readers by now. If you're sticking with me, thanks!

During this shitshow of a pandemic/lockdown/whatever we're calling it now, I've been trying to make more of an effort to connect with people, from reconnecting with old friends to making new ones. I've been spending more time on Twitter, for better or worse (though I still refuse to put it on my phone), and interacting with people I've "met" via the #WritingCommunity tag. It seems like so many writers have something in the horror genre, or paranormal, or anything else that can fall under the "spooky" umbrella in honor of Halloween that they're talking about and...I don't. I'm neurotic enough as it is, so my interest level in horror is so low it's practically non-existent, and while I've read and enjoyed some paranormal books/stories, it's also not really my thing. Obviously, not every writer is going to write in every single genre—in fact, it's probably the opposite in that most find one thing that works best for them and sticks with it—but it's no fun to feel left out.

But then I got to thinking about the books I have written, and their origins. And I remembered once upon a time, very, very long ago, what eventually became Elysium was originally going to be a ghost story. If memory serves, I think I saw some sort of writing contest for either Halloween or Christmas, and I got the idea of a woman somehow getting together with her dead husband. However, this was when I was in college (I TOLD you it was a long time ago!), and life was quite busy back then, and the story never got written. About ten years passed before I revisited the story idea, and I don't even remember how I made the leap from "dead husband is a ghost" to "dead husband appears via virtual reality", but I finally wrote something based on that old idea.

I've probably said it before, but even now, I still think Elysium is one of the best (if not THE best) things I've ever written. Its origins as a ghost story are way in the past, but maybe I'll choose to celebrate it this October anyway! (Should we have an excerpt of the first appearance of the dead husband? Sure, why not?)

I noticed the billowing skirt swishing against my knees. It belonged to the yellow striped sundress I’d worn to a friend’s barbecue a couple of summers ago. I’d always liked this dress, but I hadn’t worn it since.

Crouching down, I pressed against the paved trail. The stones were cool and solid beneath my touch. I reached out and tugged at a single blade of grass. It snapped off and I rolled it back and forth. A green smear darkened one fingertip, and it even smelled like grass. Incredible.

I didn’t have long to marvel at Drew’s genius, for footsteps approached behind me. Straightening, I gradually turned in the direction of the sound. What I saw froze me in place.

He wore his dark hair buzzed short like always, and his skin was tanned as if he’d never spent one day out of the sun. A plain blue T-shirt the color of his eyes stretched over his thick chest, tucked into his favorite pair of jeans. He strode toward me, every detail of his movements captured with perfection. I even saw the scar from a childhood accident spanning the top of his left hand.

He stopped a foot away from me and grinned. His lips, his teeth, his jaw, everything flowed into the cheerful expression I’d missed so much.

“Hey, kitten.”

His voice sent shivers down my spine. I clapped one trembling hand over my mouth and rocked from side to side. The corners of my eyes stung with a whirlwind of emotions and my throat tightened so much I could barely whisper.

“Kevin….”

Closing Montage - Release Day!

After some whirlwind rounds of editing, Closing Montage hits the e-shelves today! As always, I'm thrilled with the cover design here - very Nicholas "Imma make some women cry" Sparks-esque. ;) Get the tissues ready, because this one's a tearjerker! (In case you couldn't tell from the blurb, which makes the ending pretty obvious....)

Blurb:

Edwin Crawford is dying. His suffering is made even worse when he considers how he’ll be leaving behind his wife of over four decades. He contacts 1Night Stand and instructs her to communicate with Madame Evangeline in the hopes she’ll find another man and won’t be lonely without him.

Abigail refuses to entertain the idea of pursuing a romance with anyone other than her husband. When Edwin continues to insist she use the dating service he found for her, she eventually agrees. But he should realize, she reasons, once she makes up her mind about something, she’s determined to do it her own way.

With Madame Evangeline’s help, Abigail plans the perfect evening. Through the use of virtual reality, she can take Edwin anywhere she wants, across the world and back in time, without him having to leave home. It’s their last chance to remember why they were so deeply in love for so many years. Even though she defied his wishes, can she convince him to go on one more date?

Excerpt:

The modest colonial looked mostly the same as it had when I’d arrived home earlier in the day, though the paint was one shade lighter and weeds covered the flower beds flanking the walkway. I climbed up the steps and pushed open the front door. The hallway’s original dingy tiles greeted me, leading the way onto faded linoleum beneath our old, scratched kitchen cabinets. The house had been in need of updating when we acquired it, but from day one, it had felt like home.

Edwin appeared behind me in the doorway. “It’s empty,” he said, stating the obvious. “I guess this is the day we became homeowners?”

“Yup. We finally reached true adulthood by taking on the responsibility of a mortgage and property taxes.” I stepped into the foyer and spun around. “But most importantly, we had a place to make our own.”

I walked through the first floor, taking in all the details that had been rendered with surprising perfection. The shag carpet squished beneath my feet in the dining room. I smiled at the memory of when we’d discovered the beautiful hardwood floor underneath. The crooked closet doors squeaked when I opened and closed them, and the scrapes on the kitchen countertop felt rough beneath my fingertips. Back in the real world, little of our house remained in its original condition. Remembering its earlier state filled me with warmth, even as I relived its flaws.

Edwin leaned against the counter, hands clasped in front of him. “It’s hard to believe we ever fell in love with this place.”

“Are you kidding? At the time, this was paradise for us, a dream come true.” I rubbed my nose. “And we did get a pretty good deal on it since it needed a lot of work.”

“Fair enough.” He closed his eyes. “If I think back far enough, I suppose I can recall feeling like a king in his castle, shabby though it was.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Resting his head on his hands, he exhaled. “And it did make me feel good to accomplish this goal with you.”

I stood next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he looked up at me. Some of the boyish softness had disappeared from his face since the first simulated scene. Age and experience had never made him less attractive to me, though, especially with those stunning eyes that seemed to stare into my soul. “I’m glad to hear it,” I said, rubbing his arm. “That’s what I wanted tonight to be about.”

He straightened, closing the gap between us. The first hints of a wicked grin played upon his lips. “Other things about our early days here stand out to me, too.”

I swallowed. He toyed with the ends of my hair, his fingertips grazing my bare skin as he brushed it back. “Oh?”

One arm snaked around my waist. “How we made this place truly ours. I think we christened every room in this house within the first week.”

I giggled, and my cheeks flushed. “And that was before the furniture even arrived.”

“I believe your words were ‘who needs a bed?’” Edwin’s hand came to rest at the back of my neck. I inched closer to him, craving more of his touch. “As always, you were right.”

My body flattened against his when he moved in for another kiss. Our lips collided with force this time as his fingers fisted in my hair. Sentimental memories slipped away, replaced by the recollections of the more salacious feelings he awakened in me. I grasped the front of his shirt, my knees weakening.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, and his tongue plunged farther into my mouth. Seizing my wrists, he backed me against the refrigerator, trapping me with his full weight. Heat bloomed between us, a stark contrast to the unyielding cold behind me. The dizzying sensations intensified, everything from the taste of his mouth to the pressure of his grip melding into a surreal haze.

My hips rolled up as if drawn to him like a magnet. Sparks ignited over every inch of my skin, yet something held me back. “Wait,” I managed to get out between labored breaths.

“Hmm?” He abandoned my lips to kiss a trail down my neck.

I writhed beneath him when he reached my collarbone. “We can’t…I mean, you shouldn’t…not yet….” Shaking my head, I moved to the side and reached for his face to angle it toward mine. Breaking our contact felt like torture, but worry plagued me. “Let’s slow things down for now.”

Edwin refused to let go of me. “I don’t want to stop.” Hunger burned in his deep-set eyes, and his fingertips dug into the underside of my wrists. “You know what you do to me, Abigail. You’ve given me this younger body for the night, so why not use it?”

The edge in his voice, which had been absent for so long, drove me wild. Still, our love was about more than lust, and my concerns won out. I wiggled one hand free and groped around in my pocket.

At the push of a button, we were whisked back to our bedroom, in the same position atop the covers as we’d been when we’d started our date. Edwin removed his headset and looked at me as I did the same, annoyance tempered by confusion. “What happened?” he asked.

I fluffed out my hair, which had returned to its shorter, graying state. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He crossed his arms, the movements stiff beneath his pajamas and bathrobe. “Was I complaining?”

Dropping my gaze, I fiddled with the corner of the bedsheets. “No. But I admit I don’t know everything about how this stuff works, and I didn’t want you to get overtired, and—”

“Abigail, I’m fine.” The words came out in his usual level voice, though there was a hint of sternness to them. “Haven’t I been voicing any concerns as they’ve come up?”

“I know, I know.” A long sigh left my lips. “I’m fussing over you too much again, aren’t I? I need to remember I’m not one of the nurses.”

Edwin reached over to touch my hand. “It’s okay.” He drew his thumb across the top. “If I start to feel unwell, I promise I’ll let you know, all right?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

I held up the pair of headsets. “Should we pick up where we left off, then?”

He smirked. “I think the moment’s passed.” When I frowned, he shook his head at me. “Let’s keep going,” he said, folding his hands behind his head as he reclined. “I want to find out what else is in store for me tonight.”

Before replacing his equipment, I knelt and pressed my lips against his forehead. “Whatever makes you happy.”

His words sounded muffled as I adjusted my own headset. “You make me happy.”

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Closing Montage - Coming Soon!

I'm excited to announce I just signed the contracts for Closing Montage, another contribution to the 1Night Stand series. This one's a short one, though I managed to pack a lot into those ~16,000 words. The 1NS series doesn't allow for direct sequels, but there's a brief reference to Elysium in the first chapter, and it's similar in tone.

I know I always half-joke about how awful my blurbs are, but for some reason, I really struggled with this one. Assume I'm going to rewrite this eventually because I acknowledge it is not good:

Edwin Crawford is dying. His suffering is made even worse when he considers how he’ll be leaving behind his wife of over four decades. He contacts 1Night Stand and instructs her to communicate with Madame Evangeline in the hopes she’ll find another man and won’t be lonely without him.

Abigail refuses to entertain the idea of pursuing a romance with anyone other than her husband. When Edwin continues to insist she use the dating service he found for her, she eventually agrees. But he should realize, she reasons, once she makes up her mind about something, she’s determined to do it her own way.

With Madame Evangeline’s help, Abigail plans the perfect evening. Through the use of virtual reality, she can take Edwin anywhere she wants, across the world and back in time, without him having to leave home. It’s their last chance to remember why they were so deeply in love for so many years. Even though she defied his wishes, can she convince him to go on one more date?
 
The excerpt I picked is better:

A low growl rumbled in his throat as his tongue plunged farther into my mouth. Seizing my wrists, he backed me against the refrigerator, trapping me with his full weight. Heat bloomed between us, a stark contrast to the unyielding cold behind me. The dizzying sensations intensified, everything from the taste of his mouth to the pressure of his grip melding together into a surreal haze.
 
My hips rolled up as if they were drawn to him like a magnet. Sparks ignited over every inch of my skin, yet something held me back. “Wait,” I managed to get out between labored breaths.
 
“Hmm?” He abandoned my lips to kiss a trail down my neck.
 
I writhed beneath him when he reached my collarbone. “We can’t…I mean, you shouldn’t…not yet….” Shaking my head, I moved to the side and reached for his face to angle it toward mine. Breaking our contact felt like torture, but worry plagued me. “Let’s slow things down for now,” I said.
 
Edwin refused to let go of me. “I don’t want to stop.” Hunger burned in his deep-set eyes and his fingertips dug into the underside of my wrists. “You know what you do to me, Abigail. You’ve given me this younger body for the night, so why not use it?”
 
The edge in his voice, which had been absent for so long, drove me wild. Still, our love was about more than lust, and my concerns won out. I wiggled one hand free and groped around in my pocket.
 
At the push of a button, we were whisked back to our bedroom, in the same position atop the covers as we’d been when we’d started our date. Edwin removed his headset and looked at me as I did the same, annoyance tempered by confusion. “What happened?” he asked.
 
I fluffed out my hair, which had returned to its shorter, graying state. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
 
He crossed his arms, the movements stiff beneath his pajamas and bathrobe. “Was I complaining?”
 
Dropping my gaze, I fiddled with the corner of the bedsheets. “No. But I admit I don’t know everything about how this stuff works, and I didn’t want you to get overtired, and—”
 
“Abigail, I’m fine.” The words came out in his usual level voice, though there was a hint of sternness to them. “Haven’t I been voicing any concerns as they’ve come up?”
 
“I know, I know.” A long sigh left my lips. “I’m fussing over you too much again, aren’t I? I need to remember I’m not one of the nurses.”
 
Stay tuned for more details!

Going Back to the Same Well

As my old series Trope-tastic Thursdays indicated, tropes are not a bad thing. We all use them, whether we're aware of them or not. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say there are some tropes I like better than others, and some themes or character types keep popping up.

I'm on Chapter 3 of the new project, Sonata for Springtime. (I had to take a little break due to Influenza B, but I'm better now!) The characters were pretty fleshed out in my head before I even started writing, but now that I'm actually writing, they're becoming more and more defined, of course. In writing my protagonist, Jonathan, I'm finding a lot of similarities between him and other main characters I've written in the past.

This character type that I'm apparently so fond of is not particularly happy or unhappy. He's just plugging away, letting life happen. No major struggles, but no great passion for anything, either. He's just kind of...there. But then BOOM! Romance happens. Or at least the chance for romance arises, because we still need some conflict to drive the story forward.

Let's take a look at my backlog and see how many times I've done this. Stephen from The Edge of the Sphere definitely qualifies, as he's probably one of the most passive characters I've ever written (in the first half of the book, anyway). Caleb from Flight of the Dragon Queen (the 1Night Stand series) probably also qualifies, though at least he was slightly more proactive in contacting Madame Eve for a date. In Out of Orbit, Aras was content with his life until Jasmine almost literally crash landed in front of him. And then we have a rare female example with Veronica in Seductive Suspect, who gets shoved into the story's plot by her sister.

I don't know why I keep coming back here. I've done plenty of other heroes and heroines, including some who have suffered great trauma but are cured by True Love Forever. (Or, as my college friends used to call it, the "fuck the pain away" plot. :D ) Maybe it's because even though I love sci-fi and fantasy and all these wildly imaginative worlds, I also like regular people doing regular things. We can't all be dark and brooding, after all.

So while I could probably use a little more variety in my writing, it's not like all these characters are exact clones of each other, either. It's working for the story I want to write, so I'm not going to create some tragic past or heroic adventure for Jonathan just to mix things up. He'll have plenty to worry about anyway as the book progresses, don't you worry.