I can’t remember the last time I had an opportunity to interview a fellow Midwestern writer of the naughty words, but that’s why I love Tha Twittuh. Indie Romancelandia is full of them and Michigan’s own Bronwyn Green is no exception. What I love about this author (besides the fact that she on the corner of Quirky & Kinky!) is that she puts in the WORK, y’all! Not only does her backlog boast three series, twelve standalones and a host of freebie reads, but she also works in the book promo biz to support fellow writers. She is one busy sexy scribe!
Read on as Bronwyn dishes about her love for art, how dialogue best serves her, and how writing nice helped her discover she was best at writing naughty!
In a few sentences, tell us a little about yourself.
Let’s see…in addition to writing, I’m also one third of Round Table Author Services, where I provide content editing, story development, audiobook prepping and coaching. So, it’s all books all the time for me. I’m also married to a guy that makes me laugh every single day—even when he makes me stabby. We have two awesome kids—a daughter and son—and four psychotic cats. When I’m not buried by books, I’m madly crafting. I love to knit, sew, and cross stitch. If I have a kiln available, I also love working with clay—both hand building and throwing.
What do you love most about the craft of writing?
I love the idea of creating something from nothing—or at least something from nearly nothing. Those of us who write in English are all using the same twenty-six letters to form words that we then string together to create stories. And those stories all differ wildly from one another. It’s a kind of magic to take letters and thoughts and experiences and weave them together into something that didn’t exist before. I guess that’s true of my favorite crafts, too.
Tell us about your last project.
My last project might be my favorite to date. It’s called Rewritten, and the story of a writer who’s five years past deadline on the final book of his sci-fi series, and now he’s been saddled with a babysitter.
~Actually, how about if I just share the blurb with you?~
Betrayed and completely exposed, she’d sworn off kink. Hell, she’d sworn off men. But she hadn’t counted on him…
One of the hottest voices in Sci-Fi, Angus Domhnull is renowned not just for his sweeping sagas, but for his stupidly gorgeous looks—and the fact that he’s taken almost five years to finish his latest novel. Now, assistant editor, Eliza Burrows, is stuck minding him, and his brooding nature is pushing every sexually submissive button she has. But even if Angus wasn’t her publisher’s star author, he’d be off-limits—after a painful betrayal, Eliza doesn’t play anymore, and she’s not about to start again with him.
Unable to deliver his long-awaited manuscript, Angus is saddled with a keeper—and her creative input—that he never asked for. Despite the resentment and animosity brewing between them, he finds himself drawn to Eliza. As he learns more about the intriguing woman behind the prickly facade, he falls for her, hard and deep.
When the attraction between them ignites, Eliza lets Angus bring her to one place she swore she’d never go again—her knees. He wants more than just her submission, but her past and the secrets she’s hidden could destroy everything…
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
Probably when my friends and I started an underground literary magazine in high school and were promptly shut down. Being banned always makes it seem more official – lol.
What drew you to writing romance/erotica?
Once upon a time, forever ago, I thought I wanted to write category romance. I’d get the most beautiful revise and resubmit letters telling me they loved my voice, but I needed to turn down the heat a bit. After a few of those, I figured that maybe heat was one of my strengths, and so I turned it way, way up, and I’ve never looked back. And now that I’m here, I love the freedom I have to truly explore these romantic relationships—sexually, emotionally, socially, sometimes even politically.
Which book(s) have influenced your writing style the most?
I think the writers who most influenced my style are the writers I’ve critiqued with—the ones who’ve encouraged me toward what worked and guided me away from what didn’t. So, Jessica Jarman, Kris Norris, and Jenny Trout.
Share a piece of your work that showcases your writing style best.
This is a snippet of a scene from The Professor’s Student.
Josie’s head throbbed as if there was an army of angry dwarves inside it mining for gold. Or maybe it was diamonds. Silver? What the hell did dwarves mine for, anyway? Maybe they were just looking for the corpses of all the brain cells she’d undoubtedly killed off the night before.
She cracked open an eye then quickly closed it again. Nothing looked familiar, and the daylight hurt. She vaguely remembered dancing with some guy last night. Had she gone home with him? She swallowed and nearly gagged. Dear lord, she needed to brush her teeth.
“If you’re wondering what crawled in your mouth and died there, I think it’s safe to assume that it was about half a bottle of Jameson and whatever you had for supper that made an impromptu reappearance on the front walk last night.”
That sounded like Declan. Why did that sound like Declan? She forced open an eye and blearily looked around the room. The dull gray light pierced her eyeballs, but she spotted him in a brown armchair with his feet on an ottoman. She groaned as she remembered him cutting in on the other guy the night before. At this point, she couldn’t recall anything anyone had said, but she was guessing she didn’t want to, either.
“There’s aspirin and glass of water on the table next to you. And when you’re ready, there’s also a fresh toothbrush. Toothpaste is in the bathroom, across from the kitchen. His eyes were closed, and he hadn’t moved, but she was painfully aware of being alone with him. She looked around the room, carefully, because every time she moved her head, the dwarves in her skull started their mining operation, again.
“I’m sure your head must be pounding. I tried to get you take some aspirin and drink some water last night, but you weren’t keeping anything down.”
She noticed a large mixing bowl on the floor next to the couch where she was laying and cringed. It was empty, thank god. She glanced up at Declan. His eyes were still closed. Even through her bleary vision, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He looked exhausted, though, and she wondered if that’s why his accent seemed thicker this morning. One of her colleagues back home was from Louisiana, and his accent always got heavier when he was sleep deprived.
Fighting through the pain and nausea, she gingerly sat up and faced him, adjusting the blanket around her. “Do I want to kn
ow how I ended up on your couch with a barf bowl?”
His lips quirked, and he opened his seawater blue eyes, pinning her with his intense gaze. “I’m thinking you probably don’t.”
“That bad, huh? I knew I shouldn’t have let Siobhan talk me into that drink off.” She carefully turned her head and reached for the aspirin and water he’d set by the couch and popped four of them.
Before either of them could say anything else, a heavy-fisted knock sounded on the door, and Josie’s hands flew to her head. Declan was already out of his chair and opening the flat’s door before whoever it was had a chance to slice through her skull, again.
“Declan O’Shaughnessy, are you the one who brought home that manky bint in the middle of the night who was yellin’ about wanting to shag you?”
From her spot on the couch, Josie could see an old woman dressed in a pink housecoat and pink slippers through the crack in the door. Josie had yelled about wanting to shag Declan? She dropped her face into her hands and prayed that alcohol poisoning would belatedly kick in, and she could die quietly on his couch before he finished his conversation with his neighbor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Doyle,” he said.
“It is most certainly not a good morning. Your lady friend woke me up from a sound sleep.”
“I’m very sorry we woke you up. It won’t happen again.”
Josie peered at them through her fingers. She couldn’t bring herself to pull her hands from her face that flamed hot and uncomfortable behind her palms.
“It had better not. I don’t want to have to report you to the landlord, again. This isn’t the same one, is it?”
“No. No, it’s not.”
“Good. That one was a screamer. You need to find yourself a nice lass and settle yourself down.”
A screamer? Dear god, was that woman talking about Declan’s sex life? More importantly, what the hell had Josie said and done last night? She needed to clean herself up and get the hell out of here. Grabbing the toothbrush Declan had left by the glass of water, she hurried, as quickly as she was able, to the bathroom. She ended up needing to open his medicine cabinet to find the toothpaste, which was placed conveniently next to a large box of condoms. At least he was safety conscious, she supposed.
After relieving herself and brushing her teeth twice, she cautiously made her way back to the living room where Declan was once again seated in the chair he’d been in earlier, and thankfully, the neighbor lady was nowhere in sight. Neither was Josie’s purse or phone, and she wondered if they were still at the pub.
“I can’t believe I have to ask this question, but do you happen to know where my purse is?”
Declan laughed. “That’s the question you can’t believe you have to ask?” He shook his head as he stood. “Josephine Cooper, you are something else.”
~’Every story seed is a line of dialogue.’~
Name three of your best writing tips.
- Shove your characters face first into an emotional meat grinder. Okay, that’s a little graphic, but conflict is what keeps us reading. For any kind of romance, no matter the heat level, emotional conflict is key. And whatever that conflict is shouldn’t be able to be solved in a single conversation. Make your characters and your readers work for it.
- Who has the most to lose? When you’re trying to decide whose POV a scene should be in, ask yourself: ‘Who has the most to lose at that moment—emotionally, psychologically, and physically?’ Nine times out to ten, that’s the POV the scene should be told from.
- Trust the story. I’m a pantser by nature, and I usually start to panic about halfway through any given story. But I find that if I just keep going, I always end up where I’m supposed to be. Even if I don’t consciously know how the story goes, my subconscious definitely does. And as I start getting closer to the end, I can see how everything syncs up even though I didn’t really see it coming. So, now, I trust that the story is going to unfold the way it’s meant to.
Dead or alive, name the writer you wish were your mentor and why.
Charles deLint for his world building skills, Lin Manuel Miranda simply because I want to pick his brain about theme and a connected narrative, and Courtney Milan, because all the characters ever.
What would you say is your own interesting writing quirk?
Every story seed is a line of dialogue. I always get a line of dialogue stuck in my head, and I end up building a story around it. And when I type it out like that, it sounds a little ridiculous, but it’s definitely a quirk of mine.
Shout out an indie writer whose work you love.
Just one?! (lol) There are so many, but my very favorite romances feature hot sex (obvs) and intense emotional angst. So, indies who fit that description include Tibby Armstrong, Jessica Jarman, Jenny Trout, Charlotte Stein, Tamsen Parker, Kathryn Nolan, and Lucy Score.
Do you have any specific writing goals in your radar?
Spending more time writing than I do on the day job, revise and re-release titles that have been returned to me from various publishers, and make enough off writing to live on and take my big UK adventure vacation.
Thanks for joining us today, Bronwyn. Readers, feel free to stalk this sexy author at the following links: