Head Hopping

Head Hopping

By Janice Seagraves

Hi, my name is Janice Seagraves. I write erotic romance in various genres, but my first book Windswept Shores is an erotic contemporary.

When I first starting writing, I head hopped like a mad woman.

Example:

Ted walked into the room and slammed the door. He glared at Betty, thinking how he’s like to strangle her.

Betty glared back, wondering if he had it in him to hurt her. “What do you want, Ted?”

~*~

It’s not the greatest of example, but you can see what I mean. We’re in both characters’ heads.

As I continued to learn the craft of writing, I found out that this really annoys the crap out of editors. So the best thing to do was to stop this habit. And habit it was. I found it’s really hard to stop head hoping.

But I got help from my mentor Faith Bricknell-Brown, who gave me some excellent advice: one scene one POV. If you keep to that you won’t go wrong.

Example:

Ted walked into the room and slammed the door. He glared at Betty, thinking how he’s like to strangle her.

Betty glared back. “What do you want, Ted?”

Of course now I’ve kicked the habit. No head hopping anymore.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

I have some Irish in my heritage.

Even though the name Seagraves has it roots in England (spelled Segrave back then).

There’s a village named Seagrave which may or may not been given to one of my ancestors.

Either that or I’m a dirt relative.

And with my luck digging around in the family tree that’s probably it.

(Dirt relative is someone that has the same name as say the lord or knight, but they got the name from the town not the family.)

Then some of the Segrave line moved to Ireland.

Two Segrave’s men moved to the US from Ireland at around 1700 or so. One was a minister, Francis Segrave, who settle in the Isle of Wright with his four kids (his two sons later married and had thirteen children each), and the other arrived here in chains.

James Segrave was a bad boy, his father’s will reflected that. I’m not sure what James did but he ended up in a penal colony here in the US.

James escaped and made his way to New Jersey, where he opened a pub and started brewing beer. And called himself George.

It turns out he was a master brewer back in Ireland (a family business). And where James the convict couldn’t get a licence to run a pub—George could.

Guess which one I’m descended from?

If you have a glass of green beer today to honor St. Paddy make a toast to my ancestor James (George) Seagraves Brewery Master and escaped convict, without whom I wouldn’t be here.