Story discussion: wishfulthinking 1-29-06

[wishfulthinking]

This story is for the romance category. It is ideally supposed to be a historical bodice ripper. It is the 4th in a series where ch.3 and 4 are devoted solely to Miriam.

Background: Miriam is a young lady with a very demanding and cold mother and distant father. Her whole life to date is about pleasing her mother, and doing her duty. Her parents have arranged her marriage to a man she hasn’t met, and she was traveling to him when she and her sister were captured by pirates.

Aim of the chapter: to slowly awaken her sensuality, something she never knew was in her. The conflict is that she doesn’t think it is very ladylike or that her mother would approve.

Problems: I’ve been trying to write this story for a long long long time. I haven’t been able to capture the mood I want – which is light and tender. I also worry that I veer off into the realm of unbelievability a lot. I want her naive, but feel she is coming off as stupid. [in the previous chapter, he has convinced her that all lady’s kiss – and he adopts a very wide definition of what a kiss entails].

Simply, I’ve lost direction, and would appreciate some guidance. And I’m not good with the touchy feely stuff, so help here would be great also! It’s still very rough, and needs a lot of smoothing Pointers on writing style is always good - my sentences are getting a little bit shorter.

Cheers, WT

 

[wishfulthinking]

Miriam stirred sleepily, wiggling deeper in the rumpled white sheets. The gentle rocking of the boat did little to ease her way from the depths of slumber, lulling her on a plane of contentment. She rubbed her cheek over muscled warmth, luxuriating in the feel of it pressed against her front. She felt protected, safe. In the arms of a pirate.

Miriam started, her sky blue eyes opening wide. She was nestled against a hard, tanned chest, her hand resting on a very male hip. Her head was cushioned by his arm, his thigh between hers. His fingers rested inches below her breast.

“My sleepy mermaid awakes.”

She couldn’t hold back the blush at that husky voice, her eyes lifting to meet devilish green ones for a fleeting instant. Turning in his arms, she struggled to sit up on the narrow bed and presented him with her back. Her hand ran reassuringly over the buttons of the large white shirt he had loaned her.

Tanned fingers caught a ribbon of silvery blonde hair, rubbing it. A quick glance over her shoulder discovered him laying on his back, one arm propped beneath his head. The sheet rested low over his hips, revealing a sinful expanse of ridged flesh. Finding her eyes traveling down a curious path of hair over his belly, she swiftly tore them away and turned back to face the cabin.

“Would you like to kiss me?”

Her eyes widened at his scandalous proposal. “No!”

“Would you like me to kiss you, then?”

Yes. “No!” Oh, her mother would be so mad if she discovered Miriam’s unladylike thoughts. It was bad enough that she had to share a bed with a pirate until he delivered her safely to her fiancé. It was worse than bad that she had invited him to kiss her, and ever since wanted to repeat the delicious experience. And he seemed to know it. “You are a rogue and a scoundrel, sir, to ask me so,” she declared as she eased from the bed and crossed to her chest.

They had arrived in port during the night, and Miriam was eager to be on dry land and put some space between herself and Devlin’s lips. Cooped up in this cabin with nothing to distract her thoughts was doing crazy things to her sense of inner peace.

She drew a simple day gown and feminine underthings from the chest, before gazing at Devlin over her shoulder. As if sensing her silent plea, he threw his arm over his eyes with a sigh. She turned and drew the shirt over her head and quickly folded it. She eased one foot then the other into the silk drawers and tied the ribbon at her hips. Foregoing petticoats and her corset, she slipped on a camisole then stepped into her gown and drew it up over her shoulders. It was rose gown with tiny puffed sleeves and a square neck, and an unending row of buttons along the back.

“Could you…” she turned to look at him, watching as he lifted his arm.

“Come here.” He patted the bed beside him. He sat up, his muscles rippling. The sheet dangled precariously low over his hips. Miriam felt her knees turn to jelly.

Devlin watched as she approached him shyly. Her trust in him was damning. His intention was to seduce her thoroughly, yet she willingly placed her virtue under his protection. He had lain with her in his arms, her innocent body pressed against his. She had worn his shirt, and nothing beneath. He was very much afraid he would have to kill her fiancé and remove all thoughts of him from her mind. That, or this need to have her beneath him, around him, would surely kill him.

As she sat on the edge of the bed and scooped her silver blonde hair over her shoulder, Devlin forced himself to picture tightening a leash around his control. His body throbbed, and it was all he could do not to lay her down on the bed and push up her skirts and take what was his to take. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge Miriam wouldn’t enjoy it. She wasn’t ready for him yet. That much he had learnt the hard way.

Miriam held her breath as he skillfully buttoned her up. The scent and warmth of him, the feel of his hands unknowingly caressing her back, was distracting. Think ladylike thoughts, she ordered herself. Don’t think about his mouth, or his hands, of the feel of him pressed against her. Her only saving grace was that he was a pirate: he had to have this effect on all women.

His lips pressed against her creamy skin just above her shoulder blade. Her lips parted on a soundless gasp. She rose from the bed, her skirts swirling as she turned to face him. The look in his eyes made her heart flip flop.

“Dev-lin.”

Devlin shrugged, and the sheet dipped lower. “I am a pirate, Miriam. It is in my nature.”

He rose from the bed, and she spun around, her face flaming. The shadowed part of him peeking through his unlaced breeches might not have possessed any manly mystique had her reactions been slower. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her gown felt tight across her chest.

Her mother always told her wise lady’s never found themselves alone with a man, because they were unable to control their urges. Only now did Miriam begin to suspect what her mother meant by “urges”. It was the urge to shock and flaunt.

“I cannot promise I will not kiss you or caress you. You will have to forgive my small transgressions.”

Miriam’s eyes widened. What did that sound so…nice? If only her mother knew, she would take a belt to Miriam! “My fiance-“

“Is not here,” he interjected smoothly. She gasped as he caught her wrist and spun her around. “And it is my intention to kiss you every morning.”

He crowded her up against the cabin door, and she struggled to cope with the overwhelming surge of sensations. Thankfully he wore breeches, yet the expanse of tanned flesh over his belly and chest was distracting. “W-why?”

“If you were a man, I would make you work for your board and passage. As it is,” he eyes dropped to the hint of cleavage above her lace trim. “It would not do. Yet my crew rely on me to be fair.”

Miriam didn’t know what to say or do. She moistened her lips. “A-and is it important to you, to be fair?” Fingers trailed up and down her arm, occasionally brushing the side of her breast. Oh, boy.

“Even pirates have a code to which they abide by. My men already know I give you special privileges. They have to wash on deck, with little privacy.”

Miriam imagined him standing on deck, the sun gleaming on his dark hair as he tipped water over his up turned face. Rivulets would stream down over his chest and flat belly to… “Oh,” she whispered.

Devlin gazed down at his blushing mermaid, wondering where her thoughts had led her. Gently he tucked a slivery blonde strand behind her ear. “Miriam.”

“Mmm…” she replied distractedly. He tipped her chin back, gazing into her blue depths.

“We were discussing your special privileges, and how you intend working your passage.”

Miriam nodded determinedly. “It is important to be fair.”

“So we agree, then?” His chest expanded as he took a deep breath, and Miriam was interested in the way the movement crushed her breasts. Surely touching a man couldn’t be wrong? It was only kissing that things led to other things. Wicked things. “For every meal delivered to our cabin on a tray, every bath, every night spent in my bed, you must forfeit a kiss.”

Miriam nodded again, then her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon! We agreed to no such thing!” His expression was as innocent as a pirate’s could be. Which wasn’t very much, she grumbled to herself.

Just then the timber door thundered at her back. Caught off guard, she jumped into his arms, her bare foot stepping on his.

“Sir, Captain needs you on deck.”

Devlin could have groaned out loud, his fingers cupping the back of her head, his other tight about her waist. “Tell my brother I will be up shortly.”

“He told me to tell you the port inspector was aboard if you said that.”

Devlin swore, resting his chin on top of her head. He physically had to force himself to let her go. “I won’t be long. But I need you to hide.”

“Why?” she asked, worried blue eyes meeting his.

“Because the inspector will think I have kidnapped myself a beautiful lady to satisfy my every desire. Your reputation will be forever sullied.”

He tugged her by her hand toward the bed. Leaning over, he gripped the mattress and pushed it high toward the wall, revealing a coffin like space in the carved wooden base. Tiny bits of light filtered through the pattern.

“Oh, no.” Miriam shook her head, backing away. She folded her arms across her chest, resistance in every line. “I will tell the inspector that I am your sister, and that you wouldn’t dare kidnap anybody under my watch.”

Devlin’s lips twitched before straightening. He gazed at her sternly. “It wouldn’t matter. As soon as the slavers hear of a pale blonde beauty onboard, we won’t be safe from attack.”

Miriam’s eyebrows rose at the horrid thoughts that crossed her mind. She could not deny the sense in keeping out of sight. “But you said that your ship was the fastest, and that none could match it in speed.”

“Mir-riam,” he groaned. He scooped her up and laid her in the hidey spot. She glared up at him mutinously, crossing her arms.

“I will have a hard time forgiving you for this, Devlin.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “If it helps, consider the outstanding kisses you owe me satisfied.”

“What! I – you!” Her grumbles followed on his heels as Devlin strode from the cabin.

~*~

She must have dozed during the endless hours of the inspection, for she was roused by the rocking of the boat. They were at sea! Her fingers curled around the wooden carvings to steady herself while she gazed through the tiny holes. The cabin was empty.

She pushed at the board above her, but it was difficult from a lying down position. It only moved several inches before her arms gave out. Again and again she tried, her frustration mounting.

“Here, let me.” The bed swung back, revealing Devlin’s concerned gaze. She stood up, ignoring the hand he offered. She tended to the dusting off of her skirts and straightening her bodice. Turning to gaze at him, she found that she could met his on level.

As the boat rolled, she had to clutch at his forearms. “We’re at sea,” she stated.

“A slight change of plans.” Wrapping one arm about her waist, he pulled her up tight against him as he swung her about. She quickly pulled up her feet and clung to him. He slid her down until her feet rested on the boards and she pushed herself away. She crossed over to the portal, pondering over the strange shivers racing down her spine. In the distance she could see white sand and bobbing dots of other boats.

“Did something go wrong with the inspector?”

“No. I thought it would be better if I delivered you to your fiancé myself. It will give Carly and Daemon some time alone until I return with the ____.”

“You mean, I’m all alone?” she turned toward him, uncertainty in her eyes. She supposed it would be romantic if Carly and Daemon had a honeymoon. Miriam should feel happy, but…

Devlin felt like a heel. “Nothing can hurt you here. I’ll make sure you want for nothing. In fact, I’ll throw in a lady’s made for free. Me.”

Miriam tried to swallow the feelings of vulnerability and confusion at being alone with this handsome stranger. Admittedly, her presence rather than a letter explaining the events of the attack on the ______ would worry her fiancé less. “Do you have extensive experience as a lady’s maid?” No doubt he had undressed many a women!

“I – ah.” He suddenly smiled at the trickery behind her question, and her breath caught. “I am willing to put myself completely in your hands.”

A timid knock sounded at the door. Devlin strode over and answered it. After a few quiet words he turned back, carrying a tray of food. Her belly grumbled. Her hand flew to her belly, a blush on her face as she met Devlin’s amused gaze.

He set the tray down on the bed and sat down. Slowly she walked over and sat on the other end of the bed so the tray was between them. There were fresh rolls, butter, honey and jam and a pot of tea. Heavenly.

The cabin was quiet as they set about breaking their fast. Devlin tore open a roll, and held it for her while she buttered and spread jam over it. Then she did the same for him, passing him the spoon. His fingers were warm as they curled about hers. It was moments before she remembered to tug them free. What a ninny he must think her!

She couldn’t meet his gaze as she nibbled on the fresh bread, still slightly warm. She imagined he would make a good lady’s maid. Even though he had large hands, he was gentle when he touched her. The thought of his hands on her body made her shiver.

“Miriam, where do you go?”

Her face swung to his, realising she was day-dreaming. “I - I was just wondering how long it would be until I met my fiancé.” At his disbelieving look, she rambled on. “I’ve never met him, nor him me. Of course, that goes without saying.”

“What goes without saying?”

“That if I haven’t met him, he hasn’t met me.”

“Of course,” he replied solemnly. “Do you wish to marry him?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I? I’m sure I’ll be happy with the husband my father has chosen for me. He is a Duke, and has acres and acres of land in the West Indies, so I am told.” She brushed imaginary crumbs from her skirts, unable to meet his searching gaze. Would her fiancé kiss like Devlin?

“What about choosing a husband for yourself?”

“It’s not the done thing.”

“What if it was?”

“It isn’t. So I won’t.”

Devlin had to smile at her stubbornness. The timid ice-princess was slowly disappearing. Each day more of her velvety petals seemed to unfurl themselves before his eyes. He rose and put the tray on the desk before turning back to face her, hands on hip. He waited, eyebrows raised. Finally she asked curiously “is something the matter?”

“There is the matter of my kiss.”

“Oh. Oh!” Why the scoundrel. Slipping from the bed, she strode to stand before him and drew his face down to hers in a fit of pique. She intended pressing her lips against his cheek, but his face turned. Her lips pressed against his nose for a fleeting instant, before she stepped back.

“That, my mermaid, was not a kiss.”

“Oh, then what was it, sir?”

Devlin had to brush his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. His ice-princess was back. “A peck.”

“A peck? I can assure you, I do not peck.”

“It was a peck.”

“It. Was. Not. A. Peck.”

“It certainly wasn’t a kiss.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve kissed dozens and dozens of women, so you would know what was a kiss and what was a peck?”

“Frankly, yes. How many men of your acquaintance have you kissed? I wish to know the evidence by which you judge that peck.” He crossed his arms lazily, his expression one of extreme interest.

“Five. No, a dozen.” She crossed her own arms beneath her breasts, her eyes flashing.

“Why, you little liar.” He stalked toward her, and Miriam refused to back away. “I am the only man you have ever kissed.”

“They were pecks.” If possible, her chin lifted even higher.

“I have never pecked you, Miriam. You would know if I pecked you.”

“Really? I can vaguely recall the incident, so it must have been - ”

He kissed her. His fingers slid into her silvery blonde mane and he dragged her to him. His mouth slanted over hers, demanding, forceful. Her fingers gripped his forearms as he all but leant her back over the arm sliding around her waist. His tongue plunged deeply, swirling in her depths and making her knees weak. The sound of the sea and men shouting on deck faded. Then his kisses changed to an intoxicating caress of his mouth against hers. She felt the press on the soft bed beneath her. Her arms circled his neck, drawing him down to her.

A whimper escaped her as fingers closed over her breast, molding it to the shape of his palm. A thigh pressed between hers as he settled more weight on her. Her fingers explored his back, sliding beneath his shirt. She gloried in the feel of rippling muscle beneath her touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against him mouth. They both froze, their gazes locked. Miriam blushed.

He settled on his arms, his lower body nestled against her softness. “No one has called me beautiful before.”

“I suppose it is not very, um, manly,” she managed. Her face was burning. She fiddled with his top button. The V of his shirt revealed tanned skin with a sprinkling of fine black hair to her curious eyes. “Perhaps I did peck you,” Miriam finally admitted, not meeting his intense gaze.

“And the dozens of men you have kissed?”

“That’s completely true,” she replied, biting her lip.

“What am I going to do with a piece of baggage like you?”

“Soon you’ll be rid of me.” The smile she was trying to hide finally blossomed. Abruptly he rolled off of her, and she found she missed the warmth and weight of him.

He strode to the door. He gazed at her for long moments where she lay tumbled on the bed with sparkling blue eyes and swollen lips. His body ached. “Manly or not, it pleases me that I am beautiful in your eyes.”

Devlin left, shaking his head. She had him wrapped around her finger without even trying. Imagine if she knew what she was doing.

~*~

Miriam woke the following morning to find she was no longer alone. Devlin hadn’t come back that evening before, and she had eaten her meal in solitude. She had passed her time curled up with a thick book on wine making and wondering about the things Carly and Daemon were doing on their honeymoon. Did he kiss Carly like Devlin kissed Miriam?

A familiar warm body shifted in the bed. Devlin lay beside her, his head propped up on his hand. His eyebrow raised. She knew that look.

“I don’t recall agreeing to this,” she mumbled, trying to draw the sheet over her head. His hand tugged it from her, and swept it away.

“We agreed that I must act fairly.”

“Do you kiss all your captives?” she mumbled plaintively. Excitement curled in her belly.

“Only pretty mermaids.” His fingers flicked open her buttons, drawing the material apart to reveal the tiny thrust of her breasts with their rosy crowns.

“W-what are you doing?” Her wide gaze met his.

“Kissing you properly. You owe me three kisses.”

“Oh.” It was suddenly hot and stuffy in the cabin. Miriam struggled to breath. Then another thought crossed her mind as she remembered their first kiss. “It won’t hurt will it?”

“No Miriam, I won’t hurt you. You have my promise.” She relaxed slightly at the truth in his eyes. His palm slid between the gap in her shirt to rest on her belly, fingers splayed. Fingers stroked her creamy skin, making her tingle between her legs.

He leaned down slowly, taking his time. She waited, her lips parting of their own accord. His lips touched hers, gentle, coaxing. It felt as though she was sucked under by the raging current, and his mouth was her only lifeline.

Her hands ran up over his arms and shoulders as she kissed him back. Fingers slid up to capture her breast, causing her to moan. He teased the tightening bud, sending arrows of heat down between her thighs. She drew him down closer, wanting to feel his bare chest against hers.

>> yet get where I’m going with this But there won’t be any intercourse in this chapter, just kissing and touching, and her first orgasm. <<

 

[Singularity]

Some Beginning Thoughts

I haven't read any of your other work, nor the earlier parts you referred to in your introduction; so I may be missing a good deal of context and backstory for the piece you submitted here, WT. But since you want some ideas on this chapter-in-progress, I'll not worry about what preceded this part.

And I’m far from an accomplished interpreter of intent and of vocalizing explanations. I can write what I'm thinking, but writing feedback for someone else’s writing without writing my own words to replace theirs – now that is damn hard. I’ll proceed anyway, though. Especially when it is for a category I've never ventured into. Romance is terra incognita for me, and I'd be very much afraid to tread there myself. I'd get lost and be tripping over all the ripped bodices on the floor.

Anyway....

For me, the first 4-5 paragraphs are crucial, for establishing the mood and the emotional context for what will follow. It seems unfair, sometimes, to have so much emphasis placed on so few words; but it is essential in a world where short attention-spans and quick click- backs abound.

The first four paragraphs here didn't really draw me in and create the emotional picture-frame I think you want to present, if this is to be the beginning of a chapter or something that a reader will start out with. Perhaps for those who have read the earlier chapters, this won’t make a hoot of a difference. But if this is to stand alone, I think it does.

The first thing that seemed out of place was the use of the word 'ease' in the second sentence. I think you want 'rouse' not 'ease'. She's floating in her dreamworld and she needs something more blunt and sharp-edged to bring her to wakefulness.

I'd peel off the last two sentences of the first paragraph and make them stand alone as a paragraph, or even as two, one-sentence punches to the midsection. The realization of where she is and who she is with is what opens her eyes. This is an important, and emotional, moment and it kind of dribbles out.

Which leads to the second paragraph. I thnk it needs another sentence or two to bring her feelings to the fore, about what she is thinking when she fully realizes where she is. There's a fine line between too little and too much, but I’d add a wee bit more. Others may say otherwise, though.

Moving on, I’d do more with his fingers when he caresses her hair. Yes, they’re tanned, but they’re probably also rough and calloused and rousing a multitude of sensations on her soft, vulnerable skin. Another adjective or two, please…

There’s a few punctuation and pacing details in her dressing paragraph. A few places needing a comma, and a missing ‘a’ before the rose.

Moving on, I’d find something different than ‘rippling muscles’ to describe his body; or else leave it out. It sounds too cliché to me. And I’d change the leash analogy, too. It doesn’t quite it the mark. A ‘leash around his control’ doesn’t bring an easily created image to mind.

It should be ‘wise ladies’ a few paragraphs down, and I wouldn’t have expected ‘wise’. Proper, respectable, or dignified, sounds more right here.

The other thing I am confused about is your reference to Miriam’s sister. In your intro, you said both of the sisters were captured by the pirates, yet Miriam is thinking about her sister being on her honeymoon. Maybe that’s explained somewhere else, but it doesn’t seem to fit with how you framed the chapter excerpt.

I did very much enjoy the ‘pecking’ debate. That truly set the tone I think you are trying to create. And it continues along well, after that. I think the latter half of this moves along smoother and has a more even and lilting pace to it than the first half does, up until the ending.

Overall, I think a little sandpapering of the words and phrasing will help a great deal.

The only place where the believability droops a bit is at the end, where she surrenders a bit too easily for herself. A little more dialog there, or some inner thoughts to reflect the conflict that should be there, would add more emotional content, and make it more believable.

I hope this helps.

 

[klvyoenne]

Victorian garments

Ahh! A chance to use my unbelieveably useless knowledge!

First, you need to decide what "era" of Victorian you are looking for. Victorian clothing styles changed dramatically within a 100 year span. For research I suggest http://www.fashion-era.com/mid-late_victorian_fashion.htm

Secondly, If you want any kind of believability regarding anything to do with Victorian-era garments, you would not have your "herioine" foregoing her corset when she dressed. The fabric for true Victorian-era dresses was cut while the girl was laced, and therefore, most of the finery she would be bringing with her would be unwearable without her corset in place.

Generic dressing layers:

Chamois (also called a bodice), pantiloons, stockings, and garters

Corset and shoes

Underskirts/ petticoats

oveskirts and jackets

Most Victorian women wore their corsets all the time (even throughout pregnancy)--they losened the stays to sleep (but not much) and chamber maids helped them tightened them again when they woke (bedposts came in very handy for this task.)

It might be an interesting thing for the pirate to help her with her corset.
Stockings were kept in place with garters.

For the record, Victorian era undergarments included split-crotch panties, as it would be impossible for women to bend at the waist to pull down thier undertrousers while corseted. They lifted the skirts and pulled the crotch apart.

Kisses!

--K

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Forgive me for not reading all of it, but this man is obviously not a pirate and they're obviously not on a ship. It's all pretend, and it comes off that way. They're playing Pirate & Lady, and because it's all pretend, there's no tension there.

Just to check reality, we are in the age of pirates here? That would be about 1500-1680 maybe. After then, they were pretty much wiped out of the Caribbean and Mediterranean except for the moorish Sallee raiders coming out of the North African states, who were hunted mercilessly by the European powers. SO I'm figuring something like 1600, Spanish Main.

Unless Devlin is the captain of the ship, he's going to be in a tiny compartment hardly big enough to turn around in. He sleeps in a hanging cot, not a bed, and he certainly doesn't use a sheet. He has no portholes to look out of, and no one's bringing anyone anything on a tray on a sailing ship, no matter what the era. I know I'm a terrible paon in the ass about historical detail, and normally I'd just let it go for the most part, but I think here your historical naivete is just killing the story. It's all just all too Disneyland, too idealized, too unreal. This isn't a pirate ship. It's the Love Boat.

We're all certainly allowed a good deal of author's license, thank God, so it's fine if you want to give him his own cabin for dramatic purposes if you like, and even a fixed bed (though they'll be thrown to the floor every time the ship tacks or lurches, and even sailing steady would cause them to roll off.) But in ignoring the details and authentic atmosphere or a ship at sea during this era, you're throwing away a lot of the tension and realism, as well as the interest and flavor of the story.

It's late and I shouldn't be up so I don't want to go on too long about this, but the problem is, the piece is flaccid. There's no dramatic tension, no grit, no sense of realism and--most importantly--no sense of danger. Devlin seems about as dangerous as a Mouseketeer, the ship is a Celebrity Cruiseliner headed for the wilds on Cancun, and so where's the interest? Where's the challenge to Mirian's character that lets us see what she's made of? She seems ditzy because she can just drift around la-dee-da without ever taking a stand because everything's so harmless and benign. Devlin talks as if he's read every pirate romance ever written and is just going through the motions. He should be dangerous, instead he just seems effete.

You know, pirates were very dangerous, very unpleasant people. They murdered innocents and threw them overboard, raped and killed women wihtout compunction and did other horrible stuff. They all knew that capture meant hanging without reprieve or mercy, and so they asked for no quarter and gave none. They were savage. You're certainly entitled to plenty of author's license to create a charming and dashing pirate-lover for romantic purposes, but the idea of this jolly crew having to wash on deck because Miriam is in the loo is--forgive me love--just silly. Nor would any pirate ship be letting port authorities on board or getting anywhere near a civilized port. Let him be dashing, let him be charming--educated even--but make it clear that they both know he can take anything he wants from her at any time-- anything at all. See if that doesn't stiffen up her backbone and set some sparks to flying.

But the first thing you have to do is get your atmosphere and ambience right. I'd suggest getting some pirate books out of the library--some illustrated ones if possible, so you can see what their ships looked like and get a sense of what life on board was all about. You might also dip into the Patrick O'Brian Aubry-Marturin books about life in the Royal Navy in Napoleonic times. Pirates were all gone by then (about 1800), but no one paints a more fascinating, realistic, and gripping picture of life on an armed sailing ship than O'Brian; and if you choose to read "Post Captain" (Volume 2 in the series), he even throws in some rather interesting romance and just about drowns you in Napoleonic era atmosphere and detail.

I'll come back and look at this after the brandy wears off, but I really think that you have to start with a grittier, more realistic kind of ambience. That'll give you a feel for who your characters really are and let their personalities come out and drive the story, and it won't feel so floaty and derivative. It'll be a lot hotter too.

Best,

--dr.M.

 

[Penelope Street]

Hi wishful,

You ever open the fridge and get just that littlest hint that something's off in there, but you're not sure what? I think this chapter is a little like that; after three days I still can't quite tell what it is.

My best guess is the problem stems from this theme having been done to death in countless romance novels. I can't even remember how many stories I read in my twenties about a naive damsel who is captured by a dashing rogue- could be a pirate, an outlaw, whatever. Regardless, he's a handsome bad guy, but of course he's a good guy to her and protects her and understands her and loves her like no one else ever could and they live happily ever after.

So there's the problem. We all know the characters. Or are they just stereotypes? Regardless, the narrator goes on and on like I need to be convinced of her virtue, but I already know her because I've read about her how many times before? Even without reading the preceding chapters, I've a pretty good idea what's happened and what's going to happen so I don't need to be told twenty times about how she feels about how mother would feel about how she feels about him. You know?

If there was not some allure to this kind of tale then there wouldn't be so many betrothed young ladies captured by noble brigands- but to be worth writing does this one not need something unique to set it apart from the others? Or maybe at forty I just expect a hell of a lot more from a story than I did when I was twenty. lol.

About your concerns; if you wanted light and tender and believable, why write a pirate story? I can't imagine how you can write about a gentle pirate and not veer off into the realm of the incredulous.

On that note, I don't believe for a moment she feels threatened. Hello?! After a sheltered upbringing, she's finds herself in the clutches of a pirate, yet all she can do is muse about how her mother would feel? This should be a great part of the tension- sure, maybe I know she's in no danger, but she doesn't. Right?

And Devlin- what's piraty about him? The average college boy is more menacing. I think I need to see something violent, something pirate-like, before I'm going to believe any of this. Or was there some of this in the previous chapters? If so, then I think they are beyond kissing and pecking banter. If not, well, why even write about a pirate?

Take Care,
Penny

 

[Penelope Street]

Ahh! A chance to use my unbelieveably useless knowledge!

I must disagree! Your knowledge is most useful. Thanks so much for sharing.

 

[Penelope Street]

He sleeps in a hanging cot, not a bed, and he certainly doesn't use a sheet.

...

... if you want to give him his own cabin for dramatic purposes if you like, and even a fixed bed (though they'll be thrown to the floor every time the ship tacks or lurches, and even sailing steady would cause them to roll off.)

So even the captain on a sailing ship slept in a cot? I can't recall any story I ever read where the captain didn't have a proper bed, or at least a bunk. Go figure. Doing it in a cot- now that at least would be something I haven't read about.

 

[wishfulthinking]

And I’m far from an accomplished interpreter of intent and of vocalizing explanations.

Don't sell yourself short. If I was an accomplished writer, perhaps then I'll demand accomplished interpretations.

The first four paragraphs here didn't really draw me in and create the emotional picture-frame I think you want to present

Urg. I kept changing and changing, until it got so stiff. I'll go back and try it again.

> 'ease' v 'rouse'
Love it.

I'd peel off the last two sentences of the first paragraph and make them stand alone as a paragraph... This is an important, and emotional, moment and it kind of dribbles out.

I like this. Thanks.

> rough and calloused and rousing a multitude of sensations on her soft, vulnerable skin. Another adjective or two, please…



> ‘rippling muscles’

Good call. Thank you for the word suggestions.

> The other thing I am confused about is your reference to Miriam’s sister.

I do want to make it as much a stand alone chapter as possible, so I'll work a bit more on this.

I hope this helps.

Very much appreciated

 

[wishfulthinking]

Ahh! A chance to use my unbelieveably useless knowledge!

Always welcome! And made me laugh. Thank you so much!!

 

[wishfulthinking]

They're playing Pirate & Lady

Yep.

This isn't a pirate ship. It's the Love Boat.

Yep.

the piece is flaccid. There's no dramatic tension, no grit, no sense of realism and--most importantly--no sense of danger. Devlin seems about as dangerous as a Mouseketeer, the ship is a Celebrity Cruiseliner headed for the wilds on Cancun, and so where's the interest?

LOL

Realism aside [I'm trying for romance, not non-consent - so there goes 99% of credibility], the story is told through her, and she doesn't view him as dangerous [I know the reason you're going to give for that ].

You know, pirates were very dangerous, very unpleasant people... make it clear that they both know he can take anything he wants from her at any time

Ok, I'm all for cliches, but I'm trying to get away from this one [and not doing a good job of it, it seems].

I really think that you have to start with a grittier, more realistic kind of ambience.

Thanks Zoot.

My stories are only meant to be fantasies. That doesn't make it forgiveable if they are two dimensional and lack on research etc, so I have a bit of work ahead. I don't want grittier and more realistic, but I fully understand what you are trying to get across. I want light and floaty. You can be a poan all you want

Cheers, WT

 

[wishfulthinking]

Thanks Penny

Both you and Zoot feel my pirate is not stereotypical enough Perhaps my story loses a lot in that it doesn't deliver the obligatory danger and fear required, but it makes me aware that I haven't gotten across what I want to.

Cheers,

 

[Penelope Street]

... the story is told through her, and she doesn't view him as dangerous.

fwiw, I think I noticed a few places where the story was told through him. Knowing what he was thinking lessened the suspense for me; even if she doesn't think he dangerous it would have been better if I thought he might be.

My stories are only meant to be fantasies...

Then why not set this one in a sci-fi or fantasy world, one where you make all the rules, so it doesn't matter if she doesn't wear the right Victorian panties or if the pirates allow the coast guard inspectors aboard or the jolly crew swabs the deck?

 

[dr_mabeuse]

My stories are only meant to be fantasies. That doesn't make it forgiveable if they are two dimensional and lack on research etc, so I have a bit of work ahead. I don't want grittier and more realistic, but I fully understand what you are trying to get across. I want light and floaty. You can be a poan all you want

That's an interesting problem. You want your story to be an obvious fantasy, but won't that imply that the character's experiences are fantasies too, and therefore mean nothing?

I think it's not so much that your pirate doesn't fit the cliche--Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean didn't fit the cliche either, and yet he was fun, hot, and sexy as hell. It's that your story is to pirates as the 14-inch cock and 44 DD tits of so much regular porn is to real life: so contrived and unbelievable that we can't identify with the characters and so don't much care about them.

Personally, I don't think anyone can write a flirtation scene or abduction without there being a heavy undercurrent of danger to make it sizzle. Flirtation and seduction scenes are about two people fighting over possession of a heart, and unless there's the serious danger of that heart being lost, then all you've got is some witty repartee with no real interest. He's all over her like some puffy-shirted lounge lizard, and she's so pure and innocent that it strains credulity. Him puckering up and begging her for a little kiss is just a bit too much for me, love. I'm afraid Devlin is something of a poofda in my book.

But I don't know. If that's what you want, then go for it, but it's kind of like writing a cowboy story without a gunfight or a mystery without a murder. People read Pirate romances not because they like boats and palm trees (or because they're interested in any of the details I was droning on about before), but because they get off on the romance and danger and passion. A pirate without danger isn't a pirate: he's just another date.

 

[Munachi]

I must say I agree with the others about the (lack of) credibility as a pirate. What you have written is nice to read, but it is lacking some tension, it is a bit too sweet to still be romantic (to me anyway - though as i said it is still nice and fun to read), and also it is difficult to picture...

one thing I was wondering, which is mainly an unimportant detail though - wouldn't it be more likely for her to be spanish? She has been attacked by pirates, who at least in the first times were afaik mainly english and french (and dutch, maybe? not sure) who were after mainly spanish ships - because it were those that carried the gold. And even more so if she is going to be married to someone who owns land in the West Indies...

 

[Selena_Kitt]

I don't know... I have to disagree with a majority of the voices here... sort of...

He sounds like every romance pirate I've ever read...

and since my mother exclusively read romances, I pretty much immersed myself in them through my adolescent years... suffice to say I've read a lotta romance novels

now, I don't know if that's a compliment really... I guess what I'm saying is that he is believable as a "romance pirate" because... well, he is. But that's like saying, "you've written a very average character."

I believe the tension between them, it's fun... but it's also predictable. The entire piece is predictable. If you were going for "typical romance," you got it. There are a few grammar/word choice issues etc. that need to be seen by an editor, but for the most part, this is it, as far as the genre is concerned... it's mostly what the masses are looking for. Sexual tension in a light, fluffy package. Most readers don't actually care if you're historically accurate... as long as you're not glaringly INaccurate... if that makes sense.

Now, that said, it reads more like a light harlequin than a romantica kind of piece... I do agree with doc that he needs to be a little rougher to push it into that realm...

 

[wishfulthinking]

I must say I agree with the others about the (lack of) credibility as a pirate. What you have written is nice to read, but it is lacking some tension, it is a bit too sweet to still be romantic (to me anyway - though as i said it is still nice and fun to read), and also it is difficult to picture...

one thing I was wondering, which is mainly an unimportant detail though - wouldn't it be more likely for her to be spanish? She has been attacked by pirates, who at least in the first times were afaik mainly english and french (and dutch, maybe? not sure) who were after mainly spanish ships - because it were those that carried the gold. And even more so if she is going to be married to someone who owns land in the West Indies...

Mmm, others had said there was not enough tension and he wasn't a cred pirate. I've tried to give him a bit more of a rough edge, but I think I only made matters worse!

I've looked at the historical costumes, and got those sort of right for the period I want. Blimey about the spanish thing

 

[wishfulthinking]

I don't know... I have to disagree with a majority of the voices here... sort of...

He sounds like every romance pirate I've ever read...

and since my mother exclusively read romances, I pretty much immersed myself in them through my adolescent years... suffice to say I've read a lotta romance novels

now, I don't know if that's a compliment really... I guess what I'm saying is that he is believable as a "romance pirate" because... well, he is. But that's like saying, "you've written a very average character."

I believe the tension between them, it's fun... but it's also predictable. The entire piece is predictable. If you were going for "typical romance," you got it. There are a few grammar/word choice issues etc. that need to be seen by an editor, but for the most part, this is it, as far as the genre is concerned... it's mostly what the masses are looking for. Sexual tension in a light, fluffy package. Most readers don't actually care if you're historically accurate... as long as you're not glaringly INaccurate... if that makes sense.

Now, that said, it reads more like a light harlequin than a romantica kind of piece... I do agree with doc that he needs to be a little rougher to push it into that realm...

Thanks Kitty! (If I can call you that ). That's a very helpful post! I'll try for the rougher bit.

 

[Selena_Kitt]

Thanks Kitty! (If I can call you that ).

'course, all my friends do

That's a very helpful post! I'll try for the rougher bit.

glad I could help...
post your rewrite when you have it... ?

 

[wishfulthinking]

Thanks for everyone's input. I tried to make him badder , but not sure that I pulled it off. But it is going well so far, so fingers crossed.

Gohere.

 

[Penelope Street]

I haven’t been able to capture the mood I want – which is light and tender.

fwiw, I think you captured exactly the mood you wanted.

 

[wishfulthinking]

Thanks everyone!!

fwiw, I think you captured exactly the mood you wanted.

 

[Colleen Thomas]

Hey Wishful,

I'm alot like Doc. The histoprical inaccuracy is really impossible to ignore.

I've written a pirate story, have studied the age of sail and a good deal on the Carribean. If you need some help with the historical part, I'd be glad to help. You have but to ask.