Louisa around the web:
Over to Louisa now....
Hi Romance Readers! So kind of you guys to
have me back! I really enjoy blogging with you all.
Point Of View
Who’s head do you like to be in when you read a story?
I guess, traditionally in romance it’s mainly been the heroine’s- but now I
would say in the books I read it’s probably more like 60% heroine, 40% hero.
One thing that challenges me as a writer is being in
the hero’s headspace. I live with my husband of nearly 20 years and two teenage
boys- so I should probably know the way men think. But, to be honest, I’m
woefully bad at reading them. I expect them to think like me- and they most
certainly don’t. I expect them to intuit what I want/need and I get flustered
and irritated when I have to ask. They never seem to waste time emoting over
things- it’s either black or white. Truth is, men and women don’t think the
same way at all, so I should definitely depict their emotions and reactions
very differently. So when I write from a male POV I’m conscious that they are
logical and use different words in short sentences. They rarely wear their
hearts on their sleeve. I’m never sure whether I’ve quite pulled it off!
Here’s an excerpt from my latest book, The War
Hero’s Locked-Away Heart from Adam’s POV:
Not on my watch. No-one
would die. Not again.
A mouthful of Hauraki Gulf saltwater ran down the back of Adam’s throat as
he fought the waves to get to the surfer. He kept his heart rate in check. Used
the adrenalin shunting through his veins to fuel actions, not hinder them.
Focused his thoughts on saving. Not losing.
Semper agens - Semper quietus. Always alert. Always calm. The
medical corps motto beat a regular rhythm to every arm stroke. Fifteen years of
service and the rhythm spurred every action, like a heartbeat, a breath. A
tattoo engraved on the sinews in his heart.
An elevation. A funeral dirge.
Years of hard army training, honing his body to a rock, moulding his mind
to not accept defeat, had brought him to this. Water battered over his head,
blurring his vision, testing his nerve. Defeat? He pushed that thought away.
The drowning guy needed him. And right now he was the only hope of saving him.
Thick heavy waves dragged him back, just out of reach of the surfer, whose
hand now flailed along the top of the water instead of waving. Amazing how
exhaustion could rip through a man battling nature in a matter of minutes.
Adam kicked closer. Pain squeezed his leg like a vice. The cold water
gripped the ragged scarring, freezing the bits of metal that kept his
anklebones attached together. Don’t give in. He pushed all thoughts of
pain away. Then lost sight of the man.
Damn. Drawing on all his strength he trod water, got his
bearings. Glanced to the shoreline where that strange woman paced and pointed.
Damned cheeky but cute. In a weird kind of way. He imagined the deep
espresso-colour of her eyes, the crazy half-spiked hair. The intriguing tiny
jewel in her nose. Ample curves. Interesting curves.
So not what he needed to be thinking of right now. Or ever.
She gesticulated, and he followed her line to the surfer. He gave her the
okay signal.
First time he’d given any woman a second thought since Monica. And here he
was in the middle of a rescue operation, neck deep in freezing water. Exactly
how he’d felt when they’d ended their fated marriage.
There’s a lesson there.
Focus on the task. ‘Hey, mate! Mate! Over here.’
He got the attention of the guy, who feebly raised his head. Adam saw a
huge red gash across his pale forehead. Shark meat too. Great. ‘I’m coming for
you. Hold on.’
The lad nodded, then disappeared under a ferocious wave. A few metres away.
Metres. Nothing. You can do this.
Adam sucked in air then duck-dived under the current, grabbed for an arm, a
limb, some piece of the man. When his hand knocked against something soft he
grabbed and kicked to the surface. Bingo.
‘Hold on. I’ve got you.’ He tossed the struggling surfer over onto his
back, gripped under his shoulders and kicked towards shore. 'Stop fighting me.
It’s all good now. We're okay.'
The woman, her smile broad like a beacon, ran waist-deep into the water and
helped drag the surfer to solid ground. Which was just as well, because as Adam
met her large kohl-rimmed eyes again the earth seemed to tilt. Just a little.
Maybe it was the shock of the cold air. The shifting of the sand. His leg
pinching again. ‘Give me a hand to lie him down. He’s breathing, but he
swallowed a good part of that ocean.’
Before he could give her more instruction, she’d flipped the surfer onto
his side and was kneeling at his face assessing the wound like a pro. ‘Hey,
Lukas. Lukas?’
Slowly their patient focused on her, then coughed. ‘What…?’
‘It’s Skye. It’s okay. You’re safe now. You okay? Took a good dunking, eh?’
Sky? Adam frowned. What the heck kind of name was that? Curious too, that
it was the one thing that spooked him. Sky. Open air. Nothing but a long way
down to a hard landing. And pain. He shuddered.
Sky. For a name? But it went with the territory. Unconventional.
Unpredictable. And right now shivering in a flimsy black sports top and
matching running shorts. Sea water had slicked her clothes to her body. Fascinating.
He bent down to help her assess the surfer. Not that she looked like she
needed help. She was calm and focused. Unlike him. She was distracting. He was
distracted. In every rescue mission he’d ever undertaken he’d never allowed
himself to be distracted. Never.
So, do you prefer reading the hero or the heroine’s
POV? Or don’t you really mind- so long as it’s convincingly written? I’ll give away a book to one commenter!
