Rebecca Connolly's Blog

(Transitioning this from its own page to a blog post… And I’ll have a second part when I managed to gather details…)

I have a musical mind, and a musical mood makes me a better writer. (Sorry, that was a lot of alliteration…) Songs inspire scenes, and then I can string those together and have all kinds of fun! So here’s a behind the scenes look at some songs that made the big moments happen!

An Arrangement of Sorts

We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Seger — This song is the song that started it all! “I know it’s late, I know you’re weary, I know your plans don’t include me…” I mean, come on, guys… That’s too perfect! That night when Nathan asks Moira to stay? This song was playing.

Say Goodbye by Katherine McPhee — This song was a lucky find, and it just breaks my heart. “But I just keep it all inside, That way it won’t hurt so much when we say goodbye.” UGH. This is after they visit the Cutler family and that scene with the horses… So sad.

Married to the Marquess

Come Away With Me by Norah Jones — This song… Oh, this song! “Come away with me in the night… Come away with me and I’ll write you a song…” Swoon away, swoon away. This song goes with the running to the gazebo and all that happens at the gazebo. Too perfect. It’s the theme for Derek and Kate, in my mind.

Signal Fire by Snow Patrol — This is another one I found by accident, and when I listen to it, I imagine Derek running from the club to his home to tell Kate how he feels, and the disaster that follows… A little ironic, I’ll give you that, but it works.

Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber — Okay, so the song is by the incomparable ALW, but I used 3 different versions in my playlist for this book for different things. It became a theme for Kate. The first was by Jenny Oaks Baker, an incredible artist, and is when Gemma and Kate are playing. The second was by Jackie Evancho, who blows my mind, and that’s when Mary is singing it. Lastly is the moving version by Julian Lloyd Webber (yes, he’s related) and is a breathtaking rendition on the cello. That’s a reflective and painful one when Derek and Kate aren’t doing so well… Such a good song.

Secrets of a Spinster

Then You Look At Me by Celine Dion — I have adored this song for YEARS. Imagine my joy when the scene that sprang to life in this song was applicable for this fantastic couple! “Then you look at me, and I always see what I have been searching for…” This song is THAT ballroom scene. And if you ever meet me in person, and we have the time, I will put this song on and spell out the entire scene in time with the music. Not kidding. So good.

All This Time by OneRepublic — Theme song for Geoff and Mary. Goes on the youtube montage someone will make when they do the adapted version for TV or in film. (No, that is not an announcement, just a wish!) “All this time we were waiting for each other, all this time I was waiting for you. We got all these words, can’t waste them on another so I’m straight in a straight line running back to you…” And we all die glorious swooning deaths!

The Dangers of Doing Good

Falling by Keri Noble — I can’t even tell you how I found this song, but it is so gorgeous! It perfectly sums up Annie’s sweet and uncertain feelings for Duncan, and her insecurity about the whole thing. Such a tender love song!

Superman Tonight by Bon Jovi — A Bon Jovi song for a Regency romance? You bet! This song is SO Duncan! He is all about saving Annie and doing the right thing and being noble… He’s so great! I love this song for him. “There’s something about you I wanna rescue. I don’t even know you, so what does that mean?” Seriously. Does it get any more perfect than that?

The Burdens of a Bachelor

Go First by Rose Cousins — I cried when I found this song, and when I was writing Susannah, I knew this fit her to a tee. SO GOOD.

Remember When It Rained by Josh Groban — GAZEBO SCENE. Nuff said.

Possibility by Lykke Li — When I was writing the agonizing scene of Susannah realizing that she had completely lost her chance, that all hope was gone, this was the song that I played on repeat. Single most depressing song ever, and it was the only thing that could get the feelings of the scene nailed down for me.

A Bride Worth Taking

Don’t You Remember by Adele — When Marianne finds herself falling for Kit but he has gone back to his distant self, this song comes into play. She wanted Kit to love her again, to remember how he once felt, and this song portrays that so well. Breaks my heart!

Fix You by Coldplay — THIS SONG. This is the theme for Kit and Marianne. It is EVERYWHERE in the soundtrack. A full orchestral version is in the scene when he rides out in the rain after her, a piano version is in the falling in love process, a haunting cello version is in the heartbreak but hopeful moments, and the grand finale (credits song!) is the original. SO GOOD.

A Wager Worth Making

Say Something by A Great Big World — This is the theme for Lucas and Gemma. It is painful and lovely and soooooo appropriate for them! A violin version is used for Gemma’s incredible violin scene (UGH!) and an all piano version was used for some of their cute earlier moments.

Anonymous soundtrack by Thomas Wander and Harald Kloser — The music for this movie is UH-MAAAAZ-ING and I adore it. It is rather strings heavy, which is perfect for Gemma, and often quite brooding, which is absolutely Lucas. Sheer perfection.

The Light by The Album Leaf —  Umm… This is the song for THAT scene. It’s got this intensity to it that is fairly subtle, but once you catch it… My gosh, you’re on fire. So… yeah, it’s the Blackmoors, isn’t it?

A Gerrard Family Christmas

Honestly, you can use whatever crazy Christmas songs you want for this one. I had a running Christmas playlist the entire time without anything specific, but if you want me to pair it up, I can do that!

The Lady and the Gent

Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova — Here we have the theme for Rafe and Margaret. The lyrics completely tell their story, and it’s just so adorable. I have SO many versions of this song in here. A violin one, a piano one, a full strings one… It’s everywhere!

Caravan (from the Chocolat soundtrack) by Rachel Portman — This… this is the song they dance to at the gypsy camp. I mean, come on… (Fun fact: I used the Chocolate soundtrack a lot in this book!)

The Merry Lives of  Spinsters

Another Country (from the New In Town soundtrack) by Tiff Merritt — I don’t quite know why, but this song was so Georgie for me. It became the “credits song” for me quite early on in this process. It’s a very sweet song, and I adore it.

Hold Onto Hope Love by Amy Stroup — UGH. This song… This is their courtship song. This is the song that tells the story in a way that nothing else can. It’s adorable and touching and romantic and… Sigh. It might be my song too.

Love Out Of Focus

Dancing On the Ceiling by Lionel Richie (feat. Rascal Flatts) — Well, this is the version of the song I imagine the Hudson cousins singing together. It’s crazy fun and I just adore it.

It Never Entered My Mind by Miles Davis — I dare you to listen to this song while picturing Hunter and Mal dancing slowly and sensually together and see if you don’t come apart at the seams. Go on. I’ll wait.

You’re the First, the Last, My Everything by Barry White — This is the song the cabbie in Chicago listens to as he drives away with the two of them in the back. Enjoy. *insert knowing snicker*

A Rogue About Town

Secrets by OneRepublic — This song, to me, was everything about this story. It’s Gabe, it’s Amelia, it’s their relationship, their pasts… This is their theme. In my playlist, I use several versions of this song, including an INCREDIBLE strings version for THAT waltz scene… So good!

All That You Are by The Goo Goo Dolls — If I could find a hundred versions of this song and make it the entire soundtrack for this book, I would have. This song is Gabe in its sound, in its feeling, in its words… Absolutely Gabe in every aspect. Totally the over the credits song, and everything I wanted Gabe to be.

The Spinster and I

I’ll Keep you Safe by Sleeping At Last —  This song is absolutely beautiful. Stunning in its melody and tone, stirring in its message. It is the perfect song for Prue and Cam starting to feel things for each other that they can’t really explain. It’s not love, but it’s more than friendship… It’s so tender, and I adore it.

All The Things You Are by Laura Osnes — This is Prue. This is absolutely Prue and her feelings for Cam. Her longings for love and finding ways to describe what she feels. And with Cam, she finds the adventure she never thought she was brave enough to go on. So sweet!

We All Need Saving by Jon McLaughlin — There is no more perfect song for any book or characters I have ever written in my life. This song so perfectly encapsulates Prue and Cam and their entire journey. It is their theme, it is their credits song, and it is the song that I will forever and always think of as theirs. Still makes me cry.

A Tip of the Cap

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri — This is the theme for Cap and Beth. I have several versions of it, instrumental and with lyrics, throughout their soundtrack. I love the thread of lasting love in the song, the steady and enduring notes, and the deep feeling behind it. If Cap and Beth are anything, they are deep in feeling.

And So It Goes by Billy Joel — I chose this song for Cap as he is taking care of Beth and finding himself falling more and more in love with her. How proud and private he is, how hard he tries to deny what he feels, but how much he knows he cares for her and about her. Finally giving in, at least in his heart, and letting himself truly be with her. UGH. So good.

The Dance (from the soundtrack to War & Peace) by Martin Phipps — Ohhhh this song. Seriously, this song is amazing for the specific scene. Okay, this is for the scene where Cap and Beth are at the Harris ball up in their secret and private room and they are dancing to the music below. The song starts up all about the dance, and so does the dance with Cap and Beth. But as the song, and the dance, go on, everything about dancing fades into something much more emotional, and much more powerful. And it is sooooo glorious.

Hitching the Pitcher

Whatever It Is by Zac Brown Band — And this would be the song for our boy Sawyer when Erica comes back into his life. He doesn’t understand what it is that Erica has that means so much to him, or makes him want her so much, he only knows she has it. Fun and quirky, but so true.

Setting the World on Fire by Kenny Chesney (with P!nk) — This song is so Sawyer and Erica it isn’t even funny. It’s fun and it’s catchy and it just hooks into you. In my mind, it describes their previous relationship to a tee, and it’s the memory of that awesome relationship that brings them back to where they are. I just love that!

The post Musical Moments (Part 1) appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

Today is my anniversary. It’s not like any other anniversary I’ve heard of, and I don’t really do parties or presents for it. It’s more like a mile marker. A New Year’s Eve without fireworks. A time to see how things have changed.

And how they haven’t.

Seven years ago today I lost my sense of smell.

Way before COVID was on the radar of anyone except the infectious disease specialists, I was learning first hand what it was like to lose your sense of taste and smell. “But you just said smell earlier,” you tell me. True. And once I figured out that it was smell and not taste, that became clearer, but it didn’t make things easier.

Taste and smell are like Batman and Robin. Except smell is Batman, not taste. Smell guides taste, not the other way around.

Taste is 75% flavor, and flavor, what we commonly associate with taste, is actually brought to you by smell. This is why nothing tastes very strong when you have a cold and your nose is all stuffed up.

The good part of taste comes from smell.

January 13th, 2014. The shortest day in the history of my life. I remember going to class in the morning, then having my regular meeting with my supervisors about the status of my teams and the injured athletes. I remember going into the athletic training room I worked in and getting things ready for that day’s practices. I even remember seeing an athlete. I know the athlete’s name and what the injury was.

And then…nothing.

Turns out, I had sustained a concussion at work. No one knows why or how, as no one saw it, and to this day, I still have about 12 hours of memory loss surrounding the event. The symptoms of a concussion vary from person to person, and how the injury was sustained, which is probably why it took me so long to notice that something was wrong. I had spotty memory, raging headaches, dizziness, and fatigue, so those were what I focused on. Eventually, those started to subside and I was able to go back to work and school, albeit slowly. Then I noticed that things tasted funny. It was like having a cold, only I could breathe just fine. Then I realized that it wasn’t just that things tasted funny, it was that they didn’t taste like anything. And I couldn’t smell anything. At all. To test my theory, I went around and smelled every candle in my house–there were quite a few of them. Turns out I was right.

I couldn’t smell anything. 

After a really quick round of doctors and specialists, and lots of tests, the verdict came in. Sort of.

They strongly suspected that I damaged my olfactory nerves when I hit my head, from the angle and force of the hit. They didn’t know how bad or how long the symptoms would last, but they were not particularly encouraged about its return. That did not change with follow up appointments, a specialist in taste and smell almost a year later, and an ENT six years later.

Not a good outlook, and no one was positive why.

Life as I knew it changed for me in so many ways. I had no idea how tied to emotion smell was. It doesn’t seem like a connection that would be made easily. After all, what we see and hear and touch brings us so much emotion, makes us feel so much. No one ever really remembers that smell is important. That smells give us emotions too. That smell is so very powerful.

I didn’t know how to “deal” with this change. There is no “National Organization for the Smelling Impaired”. We don’t get special treatment plans or tools for adapting or privileged parking or have any sort of outward sign of what we live with. And honestly, we don’t need one. We can do everything we could do before. It’s just…different.

Eating was stressful. Appetite is pretty much a thing of craving and satisfaction, which I didn’t really have for a long time, but I made do. Eating became maddening and aggravating, and ultimately, disappointing. Because when we have a choice about it, we want something that will taste good. We want something that we like. Something we crave. When nothing you can eat will give that to you, will fill you, will satisfy you, you don’t want to eat anything at all. It’s like those times when you’re starving but nothing sounds good and you don’t know what you want to eat and you ask just about everybody you can what you should eat just so you don’t have to think about it anymore and eventually you just settle on something because “maybe this will do the trick”.  A constant cycle of searching for what will work.

For a very long time, nothing did. But I’ve adapted, I’ve grown, I understand, and now I eat just as I did before. Don’t remember what things used to taste like, but I no longer think in terms of what it “should” taste like.

I have no idea what my house smells like. I have candles and an air freshener, and I have read the labels and know what they SHOULD smell like, but you never really know until you can smell it. When I have visitors, I wonder. And I ask if it smells okay. I wasn’t normally that concerned with it before, but now that I don’t know? It’s a concern. Does my trash smell? Does my bathroom? Do I?

I did not want to live like this. I prayed for a miracle of healing almost constantly. I longed for it. I wanted to smell again, I didn’t want to adjust to a new normal, I didn’t want to lose memories of smells and adjust the eating experience or never appreciate the smell of rain again. I prayed as I had never prayed before.

My sense of smell never came back. But slowly, over time, I did heal. Not those damaged nerve endings, but me. My heart. My spirit. My being.

I was healed.

It’s been so long now that I forget frequently that I can’t smell. I’ve never forgotten the frustration of dealing with something that no one understands. Of trying to pretend everything is okay. Of feeling like the world will never be the same. I hope I never forget that. Because I notice different things now. I understand different things now. I hope I can put that to use. I hope that the Lord can use me in a different way now. I have no idea why I’ve been given this challenge, this opportunity, but I know that there is a bigger purpose than for just my own growth. I would like to believe that all the craziness (like the embarrassing dependency on others for anything fragrance related) is not just for me. But even if it is, that’s okay. Because it would not have happened if it did not need to.

It still surprises me that I didn’t go crazy like I thought I was at the time. That I can laugh and joke about that time. That it’s not even a big deal anymore. For all the pain I endured then, the peace of now is stronger.

Maybe that’s the miracle after all.

Happy seven years to my anosmia. Look what we’ve done with each other so far.

Here’s to whatever the future holds.

The post The Strangest Anniversary appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

My grandmother passed away Wednesday morning. It wasn’t unexpected, other than we thought we’d have another day or two, but despite weeks of preparation, knowing this was coming, the news still stole the breath from my lungs.

I stared at my phone, reading those words over and over again, waiting for them to make sense.

How could she be gone?

I didn’t know what to do. I had started getting ready for work when the news came in, and the only thing I could think was that I might as well go to work until something else made sense.

I thought when I found out about this, I would burst into tears. Break into a million pieces. Curl up into a ball.

But I was driving into work and feeling nothing.

Intentionally feeling nothing.

If I felt, it would hurt.

It would hurt a lot.

Hours have passed now, though I’d have to think hard to calculate that. It feels like a week, and yet I could have been making that drive this morning.

My life doesn’t feel like my life right now. It feels broken.

Empty.

In order to understand this, you need to know about my family.

I have been going to Chicago at least twice a year for longer than I can remember. Every Christmas and 4th of July, we were headed up to the house to stay for a family get together of some kind. If it was 4th of July, it would be the massive gathering of my dad’s cousins and their kids, high school friends of my aunts and uncles, neighbors that had been there for years, and friends of my own cousins. I come from a very close, very large Irish extended family. It’s honestly huge. Family gatherings with this crowd are loud and need their own zip code. Everyone was welcome. Always.

We love it. Chaos that it is, we love it. 

Christmas was a more intimate group. Just my dad’s siblings and their families. Just 27 or so people. Unless boyfriends were brought over. And spouses, when they came. And kids, when they came. And usually a dog or two.

Absolute chaos. We love it.

My grandparents were always at the heart of these things, not just the hosts. 

I have treasured memories of waking up early in the morning and coming up the stairs of their house (the grandkids sleep on beds and air mattresses in the basement) and smelling coffee that Papa had made. I’d walk around the corner of the kitchen to peer into the living room, and there Papa sat, in his oversized chair, glasses on crossword in hand. He would smile at me and sing a silly little morning song to me. I’d smile and go sit on the couch, embarrassed but happy, and just sit there. Maybe we would talk, maybe he would just do his puzzle.

But we were together. I was at the most magical house in the world. Nothing was better.

Papa died when I was a freshman in college. My entire adulthood has happened without him in it and that sounds so wrong.

Baga was there, though. She was always there.

Baga is the name for our grandma. My brother couldn’t say ‘grandma’ when he was little, so he called her Baga, and it stuck. We’re the only family in the world with a Baga. We love that.

Growing up, Baga was a magical person. She had all of these stuffed animals on shelves in her bedrooms, and sometimes we could pick out an animal to take home with us. She started us on our beanie baby kicks back in the day. She used to send us photo boxes FILLED with presents wrapped in tissue paper. Those boxes took FOREVER on Christmas morning. For a few years, we got a box every couple of months that was filled with presents for each kid in the house. The gifts were always perfectly apt for each of us.

When we were little, the Christmas presents were from someone else. Rudolph or Popeye or Rapunzel or Oprah, whatever struck her fancy. It was a cute, creative quirk that made Christmas so fun. Baga was full of quirks like that, and we embraced them all. She used to put our names on the bottom of trinkets we’d given her or that we liked in her house, so that when she passed, we would have claim on the items. It became a running joke, putting our name on things. “My name is going on this chair.” “I put my name on that mug.” “Can I put my name on Papa’s car?”

We didn’t actually want to follow through on any of that, but now…

Now we really will be looking at names on the bottom of things and see if we want what we had once claimed.

Baga was the sort of grandma who never thought we were pestering her. She played board games with us for ages, and with more patience than any human has a right to possess. She let us wear her glasses and stood in pictures with us while we all looked silly in them. She would indulge in our imagination games, and give us butter cookies when we pretended to be dogs. She made sure there was always food we would like at her house when we came to visit, and food we never got to have at home. She had a fridge in the basement that was always filled to the brim with various cans of pop and bottled juice and water, just so that everyone would have something they wanted to drink there.

Imagination was important to Baga, as was fostering our creativity. She knew I liked writing little stories, so I got sent writing journals, create-a-puppet-show kits, books upon books to read, and she asked me about them. She got a little mailbox for her house so we could “write letters” and deliver them while we were there. We wrote plays and acted them out. We watched instructional dance videos. We had New Year’s Eve parties. We had birthday parties. 

We had everything.

She fully embraced my bookworm personality, being a reader herself. Books were a constant present for me, and I loved it. We talked about our favorite books, books we recently read, books we were interested in. She gave me a full set of Jane Austen books when I graduated from 6th grade. It was treasured then, and it is treasured now. She got me hooked on the 1995 BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth, which is still my favorite mini-series and a staple in my life and career. I can directly trace my career in writing to Baga and her place in my life. I would not be doing this if she had not encouraged my love of books, of writing, and of all things creative. If I owed her nothing else in life, I would still be in her debt.

Baga loved food, and that is a family trait we can all claim. There was always food at the house, either that had been purchased for our stay or that had been made and brought over. We ate constantly whenever we were there, and she always snuck food she wasn’t supposed to have with her health issues. She had ice cream in the freezer all the time, and we would check the moment we got to her house to see which flavors she had that time.

Somehow, there was always Moose Tracks in the freezer.

There were no secrets in our family. Not really. We’re pretty open with each other, but also… Baga was terrible at keeping secrets. If you wanted the whole family to know something, you told her. It would get around pretty quickly. One of the most commonly heard phrases in a phone call with Baga was, “Well, I don’t know anything else,” and then she would think of something else about someone in the family and tell us all about it.

She was so proud of everything her grandkids did. She wanted to wear a shirt from the schools and universities we attended, and had a huge collection of them. She wanted to hear about our lives, and usually remembered what we had told her. She sent cards every birthday and Christmas, and some other holidays in between. If she read something in the paper that made her think of us, she’d clip it and mail it our way. Sometimes she included a note for us explaining why, sometimes just the article.

Baga loved animals. Like REALLY loved. She had birdseed for her feeders and breadcrumbs and peanuts for the squirrels, which got tossed out onto her deck. Going to her house was an experience in National Geographic Live. Rabbits, foxes, possums, skunks, birds of all sorts, and really, really plump squirrels. She loved any time we donated money to a cause geared towards saving animals in her honor. She had spent years volunteering at the humane society, and always wanted us to bring our dogs with us when we came to her house.

The idea was that if we didn’t bring our dog, we shouldn’t come at all…

My cousins’ dogs were practically cousins to me, too.

As the years wore on, Baga’s health declined. She never lost her spirit and vibrancy, she just couldn’t move as fast or keep up the pace or hear as well. It became harder to remember details or things she had already said. It took her longer to comprehend what we were saying, or to follow a family game we were playing. She was still sitting in the middle of it all, not wanting to miss a single moment with her family. 

Her aging frame frustrated her.

Every phone conversation with her would have her tell me she loved me at least three times. It had more endings than a Lord of the Rings movie. It could go on for ages and ages, no matter how tired she claimed she was. It was like being in her living room chatting in person no matter where I was.

It warmed the heart and filled the soul, each and every time.

Losing Baga feels like losing my own heart, in a way.

And it feels like losing Papa again, too.

At the same time.

Both of them.

The house will soon be emptied of the things I’ve spent years seeing. The furniture will go to whoever wants it, or be donated. The artwork that has covered every wall in the place will come down. The squirrels will not get their treats, and the birdfeeders will come down. The air mattresses will get tossed. Papa’s chair will finally leave its spot. There will be no more creeping up the stairs and trying to avoid the creaky one. There will be no more pop in the fridge, games in the closet, or annual organizing and hanging of the massive amount of stockings at Christmas.

There will be no more memories.

Losing Baga is losing all of that. It’s losing our gathering place, the hub of all bustling and laughter and family gossip. It’s losing our center. Our heart.

The heart of our massive, crazy, chaotic, loud, loving, incredibly close family.

We’ll still gather, of course. Our relationships won’t be severed because she is gone. We’ll still laugh and play games, we’ll still tease each other about significant others and talk about our jobs. I’m not sure who will become the family’s Secret Sharer in her place, but I’m sure someone will step forward.

I’ve been told it’s never easy to lose a grandparent. I know that. I’ve lost grandparents, and it’s awful.

But no one warned me what it would be like to lose Baga.

There were no grandparents like Baga. 

Even when we lost Papa, as heartbreaking, life altering, and mind blowing as that was, at least we had Baga, which helped to keep Papa with us.

Now they’re both gone, and I hurt all over.

Not all the time, but enough.

Seeing her empty bedroom makes me cry. Thinking of never going to that house again makes me cry. Knowing I won’t hear her voice again makes me cry.

I’m a crier, but this isn’t just a matter of tears.

This is breaking me in two.

It comes in waves, my sisters and I have said. Sometimes we can laugh, and then we’ll turn to crying. Sometimes we’re crying, and then we’re laughing through our crying.

That’ll go on for a while. It’ll still come in waves, though the time between the waves will eventually get longer and longer. We’ll go on, and we’ll be fine, and we’ll remember her with all the love in the world and only a little pain.

I spoke with Baga less than a week before she passed, and her last words to me were these: “I’ll talk to you again.”

I can’t wait for that next conversation, no matter how it happens.

I bet she’ll still tell me secrets from the family. I bet I’ll still feel like I’m in her living room. I bet she’ll still tell me she loves me at least three times.

And I have no doubt it will still warm my heart and soul.

But I will miss her person and her presence, her hugs and her voice, for the rest of my life.

The post My Baga appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

We’re all adults, and we all have opinions. That’s fine, and opinions are valid. Maybe not ones I agree with, but they are yours and they are valid, okay? Okay.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me just put out a teeny, tiny, quick reminder.

This is MY website. I run this page MYSELF. I don’t have a team that does it, I do it.

When you post things on here, I see them.

When you write a message in the Contact Me area, it comes to me.

When you do anything at all involving feedback on this page, I see it.

So maybe, just maybe, don’t be crazy critical and upset on here, thinking I won’t see it.

I will see it.

I do see it.

I have seen it.

This is not anonymous cyberspace. This is my website.

And nothing on here is anonymous.

Just thought it should be reiterated.

K thanks.

The post Reminder appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

No, I’m not going BACK to the drawing board on something.

I’m getting ready to TAKE OVER the drawing board.

Times two, actually.

I have painted myself into a corner for next year. I have the opportunity to release 2 new series.

TWO.

I know what each story in each series is, who the main characters are, and what the point is.

Mostly.

I am what most writers call a “pantser”, not to be confused with “panther”, which is what my autocorrected wanted it to be. What that means is that I don’t have a full and detailed outline that describes every aspect of the story before I write it. But I’m not a full pantser either. I have plotting tendencies. Mostly with overarching series details, dialogue, important scenes, and theme songs.

I have an intense thing about theme songs.

And I have 2 series that I have to do.

Get to do.

Whatever.

It’s both.

I’m ridiculously excited, but also ridiculously intimidated. I’m more afraid of getting details wrong than I was a few years ago when I spun my other series. (Which isn’t serieses in plural, I tried.) I’m more worried about repeating tropes and general storylines. I’m worried about things not being believable. Of hearing my least favorite phrase ever: “Too stupid to live.” (Don’t get me started on this one, the soap box is huge) Of my characters only being funny or attractive or creative to me. Of letting down those that have been following my journey, loving my work, begging for what is coming.

Of failing.

So basically, I haven’t changed at all since the last time I was at the big drawing board. My anxieties are simply more specific! Wahoo!

Here’s to the drawing board, folks.

Please send chocolate.

The post Drawing Board appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

I forgot to post yesterday.

Sorry.

To be fair, I also forgot that the garbage should have gone out last night. Not a big deal, I put it out this morning, but still. I forget a lot of stuff when my week gets out of pattern.

Having the holiday weekend with a day off on Friday messed me up. And I worked the screening station at work yesterday morning, so I have no idea what day it was.

Anywho.

I finished my first round of final edits on To Sketch a Sphinx. Guys, I can’t wait for this one. I’m so proud of it!

I turned in Spinster Ever After for edits. That one was just fun. Ugh.

I started plotting for the first book in the next spy series… Bwah hahahahaha…

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been up to while I’m forgetting stuff.

How about you? You good?

The post Whoops appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

I’m not sure I’ve ever agreed with a quote more… I know I think too much, and I’ve yet to find a good way to stop that.

I finished writing a book Monday night. Stayed up late, got it done, met my deadline. Know what I did all day Tuesday?

Thought.

I mean, I worked too, it’s not like I just sat around thinking.

But when I wasn’t working at work, I was thinking.

Should I have put in a different scene in the middle? Should that last conversation have gone differently? I did all that research on this particular topic, and it didn’t even get in the book. Should I work it in? Is the tension enough? Did everyone get the page time they should have? Was there a better way to say that?

THINKING.

Why? Why do we overthink so much? The book was done, and I accomplished what I set out to do. Why was I even looking back within 24 hours of finishing?

It’s not just thinking, I do this with everything. Mind constantly turning and working over things, just not able to let them go.

But I’m gonna take the Dowager Countess’s words to heart.

Very overrated.

(Also I promise the book I finished will be really fun for you! No need to overthink that!)

The post Stop Thinking appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

I can barely catch my breath right now.

Life is INSANE right now. My day job is running full steam and I’m exhausted. Then I come home and write, and I’m exhausted.

Crazy and exhausted.

I don’t like working two jobs. I don’t have another option if I want to reach my dreams and afford life, but I don’t like it.

Because it makes me crazy.

And when I’m crazy, I say things…

It makes people laugh, but it’s still crazy.

So I need a nap. For like two weeks.

Maybe then I’ll be less crazy.

But maybe not.

The post This is Crazy appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

I’m a massive fan of musicals. Always have been, guaranteened to always be. I’ve always had a problem, though, with My Fair Lady.

The trope of the storyline is one that is well-known and well-loved by romance authors in particular. It’s the Cinderella story; poor girl in poorer circumstances gets a makeover and a new life, and the man falls in love with her, realizing he loved her all along.

I knew the idea behind the story in My Fair Lady.

I just never bought it.

Henry Higgins is a stiff. He’s an arrogant know it all who has cultured himself into superiority of thought. He is a genius, make no mistake. What he sees in Eliza Doolittle at first is the greatest project known to man.

Who could blame him, that language tho…

He’s a man. A challenge is irresistible. Yes, I know that’s a generalization, but the fictional world thrives upon generalization and stereotypes, so go with it.

The longer his experiment takes, the more impossible it seems. Then something happens—he breaks down and relates to Eliza on a human level.

Her language abilities are seemingly transformed! Not entirely, still work to be done, but enough that the thrill of victory rolls in, and they dance.

Eliza falls in love at once. This is clear to everyone. She doesn’t want to embarrass her professor-love, is determined to make him proud of her, likely convinces herself that if she does this, becomes this lady, he will love her in return. Her simple dreams of being a lady in a flower shop fade into becoming the woman Henry Higgins loves. For better or worse, this is what she wants.

He, on the other hand, wants the victory.

Blah blah blah, you know what happens, she runs off and suddenly he’s mad and misses her and WHY WOULD SHE DO THAT? She has found a backbone and he likes it. Then he sings a conflicted song and we say “Wait, he has feelings? When did that happen?”

And THEN she comes BACK to him.

WHYYYYYYYYY?

At least, that’s what I always thought.

I blame Rex Harrison. 

Don’t throw stones, he’s a marvelous actor and that speaking voice is just pristine.

Trouble is, I never believed he loved Eliza. When she left, it was more like he lost a toy.

I feel differently now.

Why, you ask?

Harry Hadden-Paton.

First of all, I love him. It’s a new love, but it’s my most grown-up love yet. If he ever becomes available, I call dibs. Let’s establish that. Okay? Okay.

Moving on, he played Henry Higgins on Broadway in 2018. If I had known this is 2018, I would have gone, but it’s fine. I found the soundtrack and have listened to it multiple times now. (You can get yours here and here.)

Ladies and gents, Henry Higgins has a heart.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s the same stiff from before, but something’s different.

Maybe it also helps that I’m a romance writer now, but hear me out.

Henry Higgins doesn’t have feelings. Has spent his life not having feelings. Doesn’t care, is above something so mortal, and life is fabulous because of it.

Enter Eliza. A challenge, to be sure, but she also gives him an interesting purpose. And the longer she is there, the more at home she feels. She lives alongside him like it is her home, and he is used to her being there. She knows how he likes his tea, knows how the house works, and knows where the devil his slippers are. She isn’t his housekeeper; he has one, and Mrs. Pearce deserves her own musical, but that’s another story.

Henry is a dummy. After the victory at the ball, he claims all the credit, sees himself as champion, outsmarted that annoying guy, and fooled the world. It’s the perfect finger in the eye to the high and mighty that he might have some secret resentment towards.

But he forgets one thing: Eliza did it.

Henry wasn’t the competitor, he was the coach. Does he deserve praise? Sure thing, he trained a champion. Champion coaches are to be honored and congratulated.

But he’s not the only champion. Eliza was in the race, not him. She was the one whose exertion made the victory happen, who used her training to her utmost and won the day.

Without any credit for her own achievements, the scales fall from Eliza’s eyes and she sees that the man she loves doesn’t even see her, let alone return her feelings. Why would she stay anywhere near him with that kind of a broken heart?

Henry is lost. What happened? They just did a great thing, they had been happy, they had done the impossible.

They.

She leaves and suddenly they are a THEY. I mean, he still thinks she’s ungrateful towards him, but baby steps.

He goes after her and sees her in a new light. She isn’t the weeping flower girl with horrible language anymore. She isn’t the submissive project with puppy dog eyes for him anymore.

She is woman, hear her roar. She is cool, composed, and does not give him an inch. She tosses off his patronizing ways, doesn’t let him mansplain the situation, and tells him she’s going to marry Freddie.

FREDDIE???

That stalkery puppy standing outside her door, obsessed with a pretty face that used a naughty word that one time?

Even I know that’s a dumb idea.

But it’s Eliza’s idea, and she’s got an ironclad will now. She’s going to do what she wants to do, not what Henry Higgins says. She has found herself.

The real victory.

And Henry is so attracted to her like this that he can’t even see straight. The comfort she was at home combined with this glorious creature is everything he didn’t know he dreamed of. His heart might explode out of his chest, the realization of his adoration is so strong.

But Eliza won’t do it. She’s been burned too much, and she’s done.

Cue the saddest song. All the emotions in one. Anger that she’s moving on. Anger that he’s realizing this too late. Anger that FREDDIE is getting her. Heartbroken that he’s lost her. Torn because he hasn’t had feelings in ages and now they are roaring.

Henry Higgins is a dummy. This time he knows it.

Now, my love Harry H-P does a beautiful thing with this song of his. He puts FEELING into it. This isn’t some lost toy, this is realizing he loved and realizing he lost that love all in one. (Again, soundtrack here and here.)

“I’ve grown accustomed to her face,” he says.

Translation: I love her. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. How do I go on?

And his voice breaks at the end of the song.

BREAKS, y’all.

I mewled like a little kitten at that sound. Shamelessly. Happens every time.

Thanks, Harry. Love ya, babe.

But that break gives Henry Higgins life.

Genius, HHP. Genius.

I BELIEVE the pain and feelings now. Henry Higgins just didn’t know how to express them, let alone that he had them. Which makes him exactly like every other Edwardian British upper class man who has the emotional range of a paper clip.

Except for Freddie, who needs a life.

Eliza is a smart woman. She saw all of this in Henry while standing up to him. Saw the heart appearing in his eyes, the lack of understanding that she was leaving, the fear that this new and strange awakening was ending.

And she comes back, probably with some trepidation.

Henry is listening to his first recording of her, cherishing the sound of the voice he would never hear again.

I watched a YouTube clip of HHP doing this bit.

MY GOSH, he looked almost ill. Emotional in a moment of raw vulnerability that only the audience sees. (Pause for blatant appreciation of HHP’s acting chops…)

Eliza comes in behind, can’t even see his face, but the slump of his shoulders tells her everything. In HHP’s version, he turns and sees her, says her name… She smiles. He says, “Where the devil are my slippers?” The last attempt at being the famed stiff, Henry Higgins.

Eliza sees past that. Through that. She walks over to him, puts a hand on his face.

I’m watching this going “Why are they not playing the finale??? What are they waiting for? Nothing else happens!”

Hold the phone, silly. HHP has another gift.

Eliza stares at him, hand on cheek, smiling. Then she drops her hand and starts walking in his office, looking around. Henry watches her, disbelief etched in his face.

She moves towards door to the rest of the house, Henry hesitantly walks behind his desk, ready to beg if goes to she leave again.

She starts taking off her gloves, smiles at him again, and moves deeper into the house, away from the exit.

He stares after her, smiling a full heaven-blessed smile as he realizes that this powerful, towering, incomparable woman he failed to truly see for so long has CHOSEN to be with him.

Loves him.

The finale music swells as that smile turns into a breathless laugh, and the lights fade on his happy ending.

I BELIEVE!

Guys, I HATED the ending of this show in the movie I grew up with. Thought it was so dumb, he wasn’t sincere, and she deserved better.

Guess what. They always deserve better, but it’s what they choose and why they choose it that matters.

This time I got that.

I saw the potential in Henry Higgins that Eliza must have seen. I saw the love he felt for her, new though it was. I saw his deeper conflict.

This isn’t just a Cinderella trope. This is a friends to lovers trope, too. This is enemies to lovers. This is second chance.

This is all the things.

Poor Henry Higgins, indeed. His journey is as big as Eliza Doolittle’s, it’s just on the inside.

I get that now.

Someone write that book.

But only if you can get Harry Hadden-Paton for it.

Not kidding. (If you need further convincing, try the soundtrack… here and here.)

PS. To back me up, look at HHP’s interview here. I swear on every flavor of Oreos, cheesecake, AND Diet Coke that I did not read this prior to writing this post. It just proves HHP is my soulmate. That’s all.

PPS. I receive no benefits or compensation for shouting out this version of My Fair Lady. But if anyone knows HHP, I’d love to go to lunch with him in exchange for this rave review.

The post A Reflection on ‘Enry ‘Iggins appeared first on Rebecca Connolly, Romance Author.

I almost forgot to blog for today!!!

I blame sleep.

I mean, I blame me for being rude to sleep. For not respecting sleep. For not spending enough quality time with sleep.

Poor sleep. Always there for me, and this is how I treat it?

I spent the whole day ridiculously groggy. Like borderline narcolepsy at times. (I was safe, no worries!)

No matter what I did, I COULD NOT shake it off.

I’d like to take this moment to apologize to Nick from That One Insurance Company I Won’t Say Here for practically sleep talking throughout call this morning. Thanks for making it easy on me, pal. I owe you.

How do you wake up after you’ve woken up? How should I wake up after I’ve woken up? Now accepting all suggestions…

Tomorrow comes early.

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