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View of the world #mfrwauthor

Welcome to another week of the MFRW 52-week challenge. The topic is "Your characters: More fun to write idealists or pragmatists?" 

First a brief definition of the two philosophies. Idealism is the belief that we should adopt moral principles, even if they have negative effects on our lives. Pragmatism, on the other hand, is a rejection of idealism. If the idealist's principles get in the way, the pragmatist does whatever is deemed as practical, with no concerns for morality.

Since this is a writer's post, it could be the difference between two characters. One a pragmatic, realistic person and the other an idealistic, visionary. As to whether one is the hero and the other the person he is in conflict with, that remains to be determined by the character. And it also depends on the scene. There is not necessarily a hard line between the philosophies.

I can't answer whether a pragmatist or a realist is more fun as I don't consciously think of it when I am writing. And fun might not necessarily be the correct word. Writing them
would be more a level of of difficulty than of pleasure.

~till next time, Helen

Be sure to see how the other authors answered the question. https://mfrw52week.blogspot.com/


Weekend Writing Warriors, Friends Lost, Windmaster , #WeWriWa, #SnippitSunday


Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Visit the other participants on the list and read, and comment on their 8sunday posts.

Today's excerpt is from Windmaster, the first book of the fantasy, romance series, the Windmaster Novels. To set, the scene, to help Dal recover from the knowledge of who killed those on the Council Isle, his mentor reminds him of the heritage of magic. And now the SundaySnippet.

An ancient tree, old before time began, almost filled the small space. Long tendrils hung finger-like from the branches that formed a high canopy. Heart-shaped leaves covered each narrow strand. In each leaf, veins, the brown-red color of dried blood, made the tree look like the grisly aftermath of battle. Dal slowly walked around the tree. Close up he could see a faint symbol—a mage identification—on each leaf. With each step he traced the names of dead friends and the fellow members of the Wizard’s Council.

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Available in Ebook or Paperback at Amazon.

I hope you like the snippet I shared for Dal/Ellspeth this week. Be sure to read the other Weekend Writing Warriors blogs and the #SnippetSunday authors for more great reads. ~till next time, Helen


Why Read Romance? by Guest Author Jacqueline Seewald

My guest blogger today is multiple award-winning author, Jacqueline Seewald.

Welcome, Jacqueline. Why do romance novels continue to attract readers?

There are a number of good reasons. In Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women, a nonfiction anthology edited by Jayne Ann Krentz, she observes: “With few exceptions, the women who write romance were romance readers first. They had already discovered that they enjoyed the novels before they tried to write them.”

I enjoy reading books I can feel passionate about which equates to main characters who are passionate people. I want to read a novel in which I truly care about those main characters. For me, that means romantic fiction.

Don’t get me wrong, I like many different kinds of fiction but enjoy most a novel with a happy ending. Part of the reason I read is to escape the hum-drum of everyday existence. I want to read a great love story with characters I can care about. I especially enjoy an exciting plot carried out against a lush or exotic setting.

My novel Highland Heart was just published by Luminosity on November 1st. I’d like to share some information about it:

HIGHLAND HEART - Love in the time of war.

Highland Heart is a sensual historical romance set in England and the Scottish Highlands in 1745 at the time of the second Jacobite Rebellion. (Think Tom Jones!) The romantic involvement is between a French aristocrat who is part Scottish and a British army officer who finds her as desirable as she finds him. Try as hard as they might, their overwhelming passion for each other cannot be denied. But people and events come between them nearly destroying their relationship since they are politically on opposite sides.


“What will you do with him?” Madeleine asked, her face pale, lower lip trembling.

“He’ll be our prisoner until we’re well out of here. I’ll not be hung as a traitor by the English.”

Andrew turned to Gareth. “They say you’re a brave soldier and that your men respect you. We’ll do you no harm. Unlike your people, we’re not butchers.”

But Gareth wasn’t accepting what her cousin said. It took the same four men to subdue him, and finally, the giant, Fergus, rendered Gareth unconscious with a hard blow to the jaw.

“Is he all right?” she asked with a wavering voice.

“He’ll be fine, lassie,” Andrew reassured her.

“There was no other way to get the bonds on him,” Fergus said. “The mon has the strength of a demon.”

She remained in the cave, waiting for Gareth to regain consciousness, unable to bring herself to leave until she knew for certain that he would truly be all right. As he began to moan softly, she brought a cloth and some water to wash the blood from his face.

When his eyes opened, Gareth at first looked puzzled. Then a flicker of memory came into those glittering sapphire eyes and he seemed to recall the circumstances which brought him into his current situation.

“Untie me,” he demanded of her in a soft, urgent voice.

She shook her head. “I cannot do it. They won’t hurt you. Andrew promised.”

“The promise of a barbarian? And what’s that worth?” He sounded bitter and cynical.

“At least as much as yours,” she countered, pressing his bruised face a little too gingerly with the cloth. “My cousin is a man of honor.”

“Careful!” he said, squirming from the pain.

“You’ve nothing to fear.”

“As if I could trust you!” he spat out angrily.

She stared at him in surprise. “You think I betrayed you in some way?”

“Didn’t you? You knew I followed you here and you told them.”

“I did no such thing! I never dreamed you’d follow us. Why would I? And why did you follow us anyway?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I thought you might be coming to your cousin.”

“How clever you are,” she said.

“Not near clever enough.”

Her heart hurt; she felt a deep sense of regret and disappointment. He obviously held a low opinion of her.

Andrew joined them at that moment. “Madeleine, I think we might try a bit of a ploy. Tell my mother what has happened. Ask her what she thinks about telling the English soldiers that we hold Eriksen. We could promise to return him if they leave here.”

“They have orders, MacCarnan. If I die, the next man in line will take command, and so forth. It will never end until you’re taken into custody or dead. I’m a worthless hostage to you.” Gareth’s voice was quiet and tightly controlled.

“We’ll see,” her cousin said.

Madeleine saw that Andrew’s face had grown paler and he looked very weak. Gently, she helped him to lie down. He pressed his cheek to hers and kissed her affectionately on the lips. She felt Gareth’s accusing eyes upon her and could hardly breathe as if a granite weight were pressed against her chest.

“Someday, there will be a time for us. I promise ye that, my bonnie lass.” Andrew’s smile was warm as the sun on a summer’s day.

“Rest now,” she said. “Grow strong that you may leave this place.”

His hand held hers until he finally slept. Turning away from Andrew, she saw Gareth’s eyes coldly watching her. His expression was so closed, she hardly knew what he was thinking. The extent of the control he could exercise over his emotions truly amazed her. It also frightened her. He gave away nothing.

“Come here,” he said in a voice that was deadly calm. His hooded eyes possessed her own the way a cobra would mesmerize its victim.

She did not want to move, yet her legs seemed to carry her of their own volition.

“Tell my men where I am,” he said quietly. “Help me escape from here.”

“I cannot do that and you know it!”

“I know nothing of the sort. If you care about me at all then you must help me escape.”

She shook her head. “I do care, but what you ask is impossible.”

“Talk softly. They are paying no attention to us at the moment, but if you raise your voice again, you’ll alert them.”

She pressed a compress against his face and then to his lips which were also badly battered. His lips kissed her fingertips, sending queer little quivers through her belly and heat through her blood.

“Help me,” he whispered. “You must.” He began sucking on her fingertips.

She quickly pulled her hand away.

***   End of Excerpt   ***

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What sort of novels do you prefer to read? What constitutes a good book in your opinion? Who are some of your favorite authors? Leave your thoughts in the comments.

About Jacqueline Seewald

Jacqueline has taught creative, expository and technical writing at Rutgers University as well as high school English, and also worked as both an academic librarian and an educational media specialist. Twenty of her books of fiction have been published to critical praise including books for adults, teens and children. Her short stories, poems, essays, reviews and articles have appeared in hundreds of diverse publications and numerous anthologies. She enjoys painting landscapes and singing along to all kinds of music. 
Her website can be found at: http://jacquelineseewald.blogspot.com.


Find more of her books at:  
Amazon  /   Goodreads   /  Luminosity