confetti - Featured Writer: J.M. Bicking

INTRODUCTION

Hello, my name is JM Bicking. I am now a writer. It has taken many years to get to this point, but I wonder if this is not where God wanted me this whole time. Then again, I recently became a pharmacy technician for the first time in my life. So, there’s that.
I have an A.A. in Music/Theater/Dance and a B.A. in Theater. I spent 38 years chasing a career I truly enjoyed and still dabble with – but yet could never quite embrace career as the reason I got out of bed in the morning.

I found that reason when I became a wife and Mom. These are the most beneficial gifts I have been given – and I had definitely needed to get out of bed.
Along the way, I read a lot of romance novels. Not as many as I bet others may have, but a good number to keep me moving along as I navigated the world. As many other people have probably done, I questioned as I read – “Well, what if this happened? Or if the character did this?” Or “Why did they do that?”

I believe answering these questions is when a writer is born. We want to answer them, don’t we? We need to answer them. Frustration haunts us if we do not. We often or always want to tweak the story – just a little bit. Or maybe we are just narcissistic and want to control our own little world. Either way, those questions persist until we answer their call.

I believe humans are – deep inside –and all built the same way. However, we learn to interact depending on the society and environment we inhabit, no matter what the era. I find it fascinating thinking about that – exploring that.

My love for Romance started with Harlequins in the 1970’s. My love for Regency started with Barbara Metzger, Alicia Rasley, Carla Kelly and Michelle Kasey, with a smattering of Georgette Heyer, and of course – Jane Austen.

Along the way, I discovered English Country Dancing which plays a part in my novels. I love attending Regency Balls and enjoying the liveliness and fun from the Era. I can just imagine how they felt as I can still feel the joy today.

The Regency was such a unique time, wasn’t it? Romantic and yet charged. A dichotomy of the “polite and proper” clashing with “war and reality.” Jane Austen invaded the hearts and minds of dreamers and romantics.

I am convinced though; my late father gave me the final push to write. As if he hung around for a time nudging me, whispering in my ears to “start writing.” I found myself asking those questions even more when I read. “What if? Why? What about?”

So, I started writing my first novel, The Hon. Christopher Benson, which ironically has not yet been published. This story I had in my head for years and finally put pen to paper. Literally. I started writing on a notepad wherever I was, whenever I had an idea. Eventually, I sat down at our corner computer and began the full process.

I chose to place my work in the year 1817. I did not want to write about war in current terms. Austen and Princess Charlotte passed that year. 1817 connected to me – after Napolean and before the Victorian Era kicked into motion. So, I settled there. In 1817.
My book Exquisite is the combination of a story in my head and my desire to pay tribute to the plots I love. I like stories woven so one can pull a string and the whole narrative collapses like dominoes.

The excerpt for your perusal is from my third novel – my husband’s favorite.
In every romance book I have read, the gentleman seems to be a god-like creature. Dominating. The epitome of masculinity. The pictures on the cover of the more erotic novels have specimens who seem to defy reality. These depictions bothered me. We have eight billion people on the planet. There are certainly more people procreating than merely the perfect specimens.

So, one of the questions I asked over and over is “What about the other guys?” The short stubby ones. The not-so-smart ones. The too-smart ones. The ones who may be thin and a little shady. You know. . . the other guys.

That is how my third novel began.
Not Tall, Not Dark, Not Handsome . . . This one is for the other guys . . .
The League of Ordinary Gentlemen.

(And yes, Honey, I know . . . “handsome” is in the eye of the beholder . . .)

INTERVIEW

confetti: Writing as an art takes many forms, styles, and genres. Which form(s) do you write in and how would you characterize your writing style?
J.M. Bicking (JMB): I definitely write prose. My background is theater, so I tend to write as if I am watching or acting in the movie in my mind. I think about how the character is moving or what may need to be seen by the viewer. Since I write in the Regency time, it helps me to read my work with an English accent which is also just lots of fun.

confetti: Who or what inspired you to write?
(JMB): My Dad. Writing was something I did in high school and college, but it was not until after my father passed in 2000 that I really felt motivated. I think he nudged me from beyond. I hope he is proud of me.

confetti: Can you describe your creative process? From where do you draw inspiration and ideas?
(JMB): I never know what will inspire me. It could be an odd breeze that gives me the shivers or the way an actor says a line in a movie. I could see a random stranger walking into a convenience store, and it reminds me of something else that then connects to another random thought. Then suddenly . . . POOF! I have a whole scenario playing in my head that I end up playacting by myself for the next four hours. It’s quite odd actually. I am sure many people find it strange that I talk to myself all the time.

confetti: How do you overcome writer’s block?
(JMB): I fight with my husband. Inevitably, I write one male character who he absolutely loathes and has to try to convince me why the man would NEVER be in his friend group and how I must change him – yadda, yadda, yadda, blah, blah, blah. It is like pulling teeth, but it gets me out of my thoughts for a time.

Another way is to ask someone else what they think. Their answer usually pisses me off so much, I am forced to come up with my own solution.

confetti: If you had to pick, which author or genre do you admire above all others?
(JMB): Though I love romance, I must admit I have a soft spot for fantasy/sci-fi. Ray Bradbury, HG Wells and a lot of contemporary young adult fiction make me happy. I used to read a lot of Tween/Teen/YA books to my kids as they grew up. Reading to my kids is one of my fondest memories.

confetti: What are you currently reading?
(JMB): None currently, but the last was for the RSV book club. The Girl from Greenwich Street by Lauren Willig.

confetti: What are your three favorite books?
(JMB): King of Culla by Sally Wentworth; Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling; and the first 56 books of the Nancy Drew Mystery Series.

confetti: What are your three favorite movies?
(JMB): What’s Up Doc? 1972, directed by Peter Bogdanovich, The Cutting Edge, 1992 directed by Paul Michael Glaser, and James Cameron’s 1979 sequel, Aliens.

confetti: What is your favorite song of all time?
(JMB): I could try for fifty years and never have a satisfactory answer to that question. Ever. Like – NEVER EVER!

confetti: What advice would you give to young writers?
(JMB): Write for yourself. Don’t write what someone else wants. (unless it is for a job or something like that) 😉 Seriously. YOU do YOU. Be true to yourself.

PROSE EXCERPT

An excerpt from The League of Ordinary Gentlemen

        At the door of the carriage, Edward winced at the bright sun despite feeling better after his sleep. West could always be counted on to let him sleep when needed. Thank God.

        “Edward!” Danny’s cheerful cry caught his attention. Edward cringed, suddenly realizing he must not look his best. If he wasn’t sure, Danny’s deciphering glint made it clearer.

        “A bit crop sick, Edward?” Danny razzed, but Edward could tell from the question in his eyes, he wondered something else.

        “Yeah, stupid I know,” Edward lied. “I drank too much last night.”

        “Oh, bad luck, Edward,” Danny commiserated and turned back to the inspection of West’s new horse.

        Edward studied the three-story mansion and snorted.

        “What’s that?” Danny inquired.

        “Gads,” Edward tried to speak up, pretending he felt well. “I had forgotten this place was so huge. How many rooms does it boast?” He asked rhetorically but should have known better when Charles loitered within hearing distance.

        “There are 137 rooms, including three kitchens and two dining rooms, a large ballroom, a small ballroom, 29 balconies of various sizes, two courtyards, five major gardens, two stables, a grooming shed, two carriage houses, three spring houses, an icehouse, a dock, a gate house and one beach shed,” came the efficient response. “Oh, and a summer house and five open gazebos.”

        Edward wanted to puke. “I hope they are not all filled with debutantes,” he muttered deliberately under his breath. He really did not want to know how many of them were here.

        Edward groaned internally. Well, at least Father has already taken care of that.

        “I think the oldest part is almost three hundred years old,” Danny commented. His study moved from West’s horse to the central façade. “Instead of taking anything away, they just kept adding.”

        “Two hundred and seventy-two years,” Charles informed them. “The south-western wing is the newest. They added it fifteen years ago.”

        Edward squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them wide, sniffing. His shoulder felt blasted painful. He yawned and scanned the front drive, slow to catch a shock, but when he did, his body caught up with his mind.

        The sight of newer arrivals greeting Lord and Lady Lunsford woke him.

        “Tanner,” he tried to whisper his fierce warning. All the gentlemen caught the anxiousness in his attitude. Catching Tanner’s eye, he twitched his head toward the front entrance where their host and hostess welcomed another set of guests emerging from behind the other carriages.

        Edward felt the stiffness encase their entire group as they recognized Lady Samantha Wallington and Mrs. Phoebe Wilcox greeting their hosts.

        “Sard it,” Tanner spat without thinking.

        “Well, it is not as if we were not warned,” Kully acknowledged.

        –––

        Kully watched with chagrin as the two women greeted their hosts.

        “I truly did not expect to ever see her again, Kully,” Tanner whispered next to him. His face had tightened, and his breathing increased.

        “I know,” Kully agreed. “I did not realize the girls’ bond remained so close. I thought they had grown apart.”

        “Devil and hellfire, why can she not be bracket faced,” Tanner growled under his breath. “Bugger,” he swore. “Bugger, bugger.” Tanner buried his eyes in his hand, his fingers rubbing desperately at the sides of his forehead.

        Kully tugged gently on Tanner’s elbow, turning him from the temptation of staring at the women. He tapped his friend’s back a few times in consolation.

        Tanner groaned.

        All of them supported him but ultimately, they knew they could change nothing.

        “I am fine,” Tanner insisted, addressing the group at large.

        Kully looked back as their hosts escorted the two women into the Grand Entrance Hall. He saw only a few servants with them – a coachman, a tiger, and a maid. Kully recognized Lady Samantha’s maid. She carried a small child sleeping on her shoulder. The little tyke shifted and lifted his head, his eyes full of sleep. A nudge of familiarity prodded the edge of Kully’s mind. He tried to cover his sharp inhale as he remembered Phoebe had a child.

        Kully fought to keep the sudden dread from showing on his knowingly expressive face.

        Blank look. Think blank look. No. Think rum cake. Rum cake. Rum cake.

        Thankfully, Tanner was too upset to notice. Crop sick, Edward ignored him. Charles calculated in his head again.

        Danny scanned the drive. “Well, everyone, shall we adjourn to our rooms?”

        West.

        West’s dark eyes sized him. His face expressed boredom, but his eyes sliced through Kully’s attempts to hide his trepidation like a butcher’s knife through fresh skinned rabbit.

        “Yes, yes, to our rooms,” Kully agreed, turning toward the entrance.

        He would wait, Kully knew. Thank God, West would wait. Be discreet – but then he will pounce. God help me, he will pounce.