Guest blogger: Kat Martin
One of the best ways to make your story believable is to use real places to locate the action and the real names of restaurants and streets. Actually going there, of course, is the best way to make that happen. Or using places you went to at some other time in your life.
In Against the Edge, the hero, Ben Slocum, who also appeared in Against the Sun and Against the Odds, lives and works in Houston. Originally, I chose that location because my husband and I lived in Houston for several months. I got to know my way around, know the restaurants and shopping, became familiar with the atmosphere of the city. Which is amazingly small-town, considering the population.
I felt comfortable there and when I spread open my AAA Auto Club map back in Montana and started to write, the street names were all familiar, the parks and airports, stirring memories of places we had been.
I truly believe there are locations you can’t write about without being there. For me that was Europe. Until I actually travelled overseas, I couldn’t image cities and towns that went that far back in time.
Paris, London, Amsterdam, and the rural communities in European countries are the sorts of places you really need to visit in order to understand the way people in those areas live. China, Russia, India—places I’ve never been—have personalities of their own and seeing them is about the only way you can get it.
Another possibility is to choose an area that fits your story and you can relate to. Any of the mountain states are easy for me since I live in Montana. I’m in Los Angeles a lot, thus my next book, Against the Mark, Ty Brodie’s story, uses that setting.
By the way, one of an author’s greatest tools is Google Earth. In Against the Edge, when Ben and Claire travel from Los Angeles to the bayou county of Louisiana, being able to go there over the Internet, to actually zoom down into the swamp, was incredible.
So make your story as real as you can and the reader will feel that reality. I hope you’ll watch for Against the Edge and that you enjoy. All best wishes and happy reading, Kat
PS What novels have you read that seemed so real?
A child he’s never met. A danger he’s never known.
That he’s a father is news former navy SEAL Ben Slocum was not expecting. But once the initial shock wears off for the confirmed bachelor, he takes in the rest of what social worker Claire Chastain tells him: that his son Sam is in the custody of an abusive criminal, that they’ve disappeared … and that Ben is now the child’s only hope.
As Ben and Claire band together to track the two down, their concern for the boy draws them closer, each fighting feelings there’s no time to explore. Ben’s got one chance to take back what’s his, and in one gunshot he could lose it all …
You can buy the book here:
Kat is giving away an autographed copy of Against the Edge. Just leave a comment and you will go in the draw. The giveaway closes on 16 June 2013. (This giveaway is now closed. The winner was Shiona.)
And as a special treat, here is Chapter 1 of Against the Edge:
His head was pounding. Too much Jack Daniels last night. When Ben Slocum pulled his big black SUV into the driveway in front of his garage, the only thing on his mind was getting a couple hours of sleep.
Reaching up to hit the garage door opener on his visor, he spotted a silver Buick with Hertz rental plates parked in front of the house. His gaze swung to the porch where a woman in a conservative yellow business suit stood rapping on his door.
Ben groaned. Last night two of his best friends, Alex Justice and Sabrina Eckhart, had gotten married. Alex, one of the other private investigators in his Atlas Security office, had fallen hard for the pretty little redhead. Ben had never seen a guy look happier about getting hitched.
Their early October wedding had turned into good news for Ben, who’d gotten lucky with a slinky little blonde from Dallas he had met at the reception. He’d spent the night in her bed at the Marriott, and neither of them had gotten much sleep.
Still dressed in the black tuxedo he’d been wearing last night, Ben glanced at the porch, shoved the Denali into park and turned off the engine, cracked open the door and slid out from behind the wheel. His slacks were wrinkled, his white pleated shirt haphazardly buttoned and opened halfway down the front. His black bow-tie hung loose around his collar.
Company this morning was the last thing he wanted.
He took a long look at the woman whose attention was now fixed on him as he crossed the front lawn. She was tall and slender, with dark brown hair clipped back at the nape of her neck, and a very pretty face. High cheek bones, a heart-shaped face, and full lips. Too bad they were currently thinned in a disapproving line.
He wondered what she was selling. Whatever it was, he wasn’t buying. He just wanted to hit the sheets.
Ben strode up on the porch. “’Fraid nobody’s home,” he said, hoping she would just go away. He wasn’t in the mood for another female, no matter how good she looked.
“I can see that,” she said. “I’m looking for Benjamin Slocum. I presume that’s you.”
He lifted a black eyebrow. “And you would be?”
“My name is Claire Chastain. I need to speak to you, Mr. Slocum, on a matter of extreme importance.”
“I’ll be in my office this afternoon. Why don’t you stop by…say three o’clock? We can talk about anything you like.”
“This can’t wait.”
Of course not. She was a woman. Everything was a matter of critical meltdown. “Is this business or personal?”
He let his gaze drift over her, taking in the soft curves. Slender and elegant, but there was plenty of female wrapped up in the pretty package.
“Do we know each other, Ms. Chastain?” As in have we spent the night together, maybe I drank too much and don’t recall?
But he hadn’t done that since he’d left the SEALs. Since then he had pretty much behaved himself. Well, more or less.
“No, we’ve never met. Please, Mr. Slocum. This is important and I would rather not discuss it out on your front porch.”
Irritation filtered through him. “Angel, this had better be good.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his house key, stuck it in the lock and opened the door. He went in and turned off the alarm, stepped back to allow Claire Chastain into his living room.
Ben closed the door. “Look, lady, I just got home from a wedding and I need a shower. There’s a coffee pot on the counter in the kitchen. Coffee’s in the cupboard overhead. If you want to have a sensible conversation, I suggest you make us a pot.”
The woman’s dark eyebrows shot up.
“And don’t be afraid to actually put some coffee in the pot.”
Her mouth dropped open. Ben chuckled to himself as he turned and headed for the bedroom.
Of all the nerve! Everything she had heard about Ben Slocum appeared to be exactly correct. The man was arrogant and overbearing, down right rude. In his rumpled tuxedo and smelling of sex and perfume, it didn’t take much imagination to know he had spent the night in a woman’s bed.
Clearly he’d been out carousing, doing God only knew what.
He was a navy SEAL, she reminded herself. That had to count for something. They had a reputation for being tough, brave, and honorable. Still, from the information she had, he had been out of the military for the last five years, a medical discharge at twenty-eight after a combat wound in some godawful jungle in the Philippines.
She had no idea the sort of man Ben Slocum had become. One thing she knew. He looked even better than the photo she had seen of him when he was twenty years old. At least six-two, maybe a hundred ninety-five pounds of pure masculinity.
Beneath his black tuxedo jacket, a set of ridiculously wide shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and a pair of long legs. Jet black hair cut short enough to hide a faint curl, and the stubble of a night’s growth of beard just made him more handsome. She tried not to think of the glimpse of chest hair she’d seen beneath his unbuttoned shirt.
And those eyes. So pale a blue they looked otherworldly. She had seen a pair like them, but on a nine year-old, the effect just wasn’t the same.
Thinking of the little boy and the help he so desperately needed set her feet in motion. Making the arrogant jerk a pot of coffee tweaked her ego, but that was hardly important. She took down the can of Folgers and began the steps necessary to get a pot brewing. Once the coffee was on its way, she took a moment to check out the house.
Neat was her first impression. The dishes clean and put away, no crumbs on the round oak table in the kitchen. No messy stacks of papers on the white ceramic tile counters. Decidedly male was her second thought. Brown leather sofa and chairs in the living room, oak end tables and pottery lamps. A big flat screen TV on the wall, and a stack of hunting and fishing magazines sitting on the antique oak table in front of the sofa.
She felt something soft brush against her and looked down to see a big gray tomcat winding between her legs. His golden eyes looked up at her as she bent down to scratch his ears.
“Well, aren’t you a big fellow.”
The cat began to purr. Ben Slocum was a cat person? She was more a dog lover herself–not that she actually had one–but she liked all animals. From the look of the cat’s glossy gray fur, he was definitely well cared for.
The sound of a door opening caught her attention. Claire looked up to see Ben Slocum striding down the hall, towel-drying his not quite wavy black hair. In jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched over the muscles on a very impressive chest, Ben was a formidable presence. Claire had to force herself not to take a step back as he walked into the living room.
“Smells good.” He paused long enough to lean down and run his hand over the big cat’s thick fur. “I see you’ve met Hercules.”
“You like cats?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
“Herc’s a great guy. I like animals in general. I tend to prefer them to people.” He continued on to the kitchen. “Coffee looks good. You want a cup?”
She definitely needed something to bolster her courage. “Yes, I think I do.”
Ben took down a pair of mugs and poured them full, handed one to her. He didn’t offer her cream or sugar. He took a drink, seemed to approve.
“What’s so important it couldn’t wait till this afternoon?”
“Why don’t we sit down?” She started for the oak table in the kitchen, but Ben caught her arm.
“Why don’t you just tell me what the hell is going on?”
Her patience was thinning. “Why don’t I just show you?” Ignoring his request, she marched into the kitchen, set her coffee mug down on the table and sat down in one of the oak captain’s chairs. Pulling the strap of her purse off her shoulder, she reached inside to retrieve Sam Thompson’s fifth grade class picture.
Slocum walked over, crossed his arms over his impressive chest and stood eyeing her from a few feet away.
Claire looked up at him. “I’m here, Mr. Slocum, because of your son. His name is Sam, he’s nine years old, and he needs your help.”