Helen's Conference Experience

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …”

Okay, maybe my experience wasn’t extreme enough to invoke Charles Dickens, but for me RWA’s national writer’s conference does tend to be a mixed bag of highs and lows. I cry. I laugh. I swing, within the span of a few minutes, between feeling totally anti-social to incredibly lonely for no identifiable reason. One minute I’m exhilarated over a meeting with an editor and the next feeling incredibly insignificant in the face of so much talent.

Sound familiar? I’m glad to know I have company.

This conference was actually a bit different for me in that it was my first as a published author. I was privileged to wear that pale pink first sale ribbon below my nametag. I attended PAN workshops for the first time, met with fellow Superromance authors and my editor, and attended the Harlequin party. While I enjoyed almost each and every minute of it, trust me on this, it was work. I’m now a published author. Everything I say and do can and might be used against me in an editorial meeting.

Dang! I hope no one saw me sneaking that cigarette!

Don’t get me wrong. There were some absolute positives. I got to see friends I haven’t seen for ages, like Debbie Phieffer (pictured left), who I met on a shuttle bus down in Dallas back in 2004. She and I were Golden Heart finalists in the single title contemporary category . This was The Golden Network's booting out reception. I got this cute little golden boot for selling this year!

On top of that, I enjoyed wonderful food and even better wine. Atlanta has great restaurants. Here I am with some friends at an Italian restaurant called Veni Vidi Vici. In the back row from left to right, it's me, Inglath Cooper, and Susan Kay Law. In front, Monica Pradhan, Lisa Hughey-Underwood, and Lisa Gardner.

The Superromance editors took us new authors out to lunch at the South City Kitchen where I had my first fried green tomatoes and enjoyed what must be another southern favorite, buttermilk fried chicken. Needless to say, I was too full for dinner. From left to right, Darlene Gardner, Jeannie Watt, my editor Johanna Raisanen, Kimberly Van Meter, and me.

The speakers were wonderful, the awards ceremony perfect, especially with regard to length and humor, and the people watching was incomparable. To top it all off, I met soooo many wonderful new people. I wouldn’t even know where to begin on that topic!

And even though I was ready to come home, I’m already looking forward to next year and my first book signing at national. Crazy, huh?

The White House pets

Hey, made ya look again! That's Pat White's pets. Pat write for Dorchester and Silhouette, and her next release, a wrestling romance is out this September. Check out her site.

Pat says: "Here are two of the five pets at the White House. Garfiled and Dyson usually can't stand each other, but when it comes to sharing a bag, all bets are off! Author Pat White figures why buy kitty condos for hundreds of dollars when the cats prefer the free paper bags from the grocery store."

Hey! What do you expect when you go exploring in an author's closet!

Thanks, Pat!

Stephanie Feagan's fish does Sea World

Now this is cool. Today we're featuring Stef Feagan's pets, and what a great time to do so. She's probably just returning home after winning a RITA for Best New Book at the Romance Writers of America convention, which took place this past week. Congrats, Stef! Pink rocks!

Here are Stef's comments: "Pets? Hmm - I've got fish, a couple of turtles in the backyard who come to the door and look in, wanting cheese, and a very hairy, bad-tempered cat. [The cat's] name is Louie, but we always call him Kitty, or The Catman. If I yelled out the back door, "Hey, Louie!" he'd never answer. Shout, "Here, Kitty!" and he's there. The fish is named Buddy, and - I'm not making this up - Mike holds his food just above the water and Buddy (a beta) jumps up to get it from his fingers. He always says, "Sea World's got nothin' on me!" Men."

Anne Stuart Lives With a Real Phantom!

Anne Stuart is hands-down one of our favorite authors. She does bad boy heroes with her own delicious flair. I'm a big fan of Romance with a strong focus on a complex hero, and Anne's men never disappoint.

But how about her pets? No surprise that her cat, Phantom, demands to speak for speak for himself.

"I am the magnificently adorable Phantom, proud owner of the Stuart-Ohlrogge family. Mind you, I have to share custody with Pooska, who thinks she's the Queen of All Creation because she happens to be long-haired, and Cello, who's so fat he can't even jump on the table. And then there's Rosie the dog, who's entirely mellow unless I come near her food.
But I, of course, am really in charge. I showed up here last fall, appearing out of nowhere like a ghost, flitting in and out until someone bribed me inside with a piece of cheese. And then they had me castrated! The indignity of it all!
I still am a mighty hunter, and I graciously climb in Anne's lap while she's using her laptop computer and shed into her keyboard. Most of the time I like to curl up on the quilts she's made. Cello coughs up hairballs on them, but all I do is shed.
In all, they're quite a good set of humans, even though Anne calls me "Helloooo Kitty" in an annoying voice everytime I rub up against her face (which is everytime I climb in her lap which is everytime I get off of Richie's or Tim's lap).
I'd appreciate it if you'd buy my pet's latest book, because if you don't I'll probably be out of Fancy Feast and Half and Half and back to dry cat food and water. Besides, she's a lovely woman if she'd just stop calling me "Hellooooo Kitty."

Dont' miss COLD AS ICE, Anne Stuart's next suspensful release from Mira in November. Check out her web site: www.anne-stuart.com. We've added her blog to our link list, so do bop over and say hello!

2006 Daphne Awards

2006 Daphne Published Winners and Finalists


Category (Series) Romantic Mystery/Suspense

Camouflage Heart by Dana Marton -- FIRST PLACE
Blue Jeans and a Badge by Nina Bruhns -- SECOND PLACE
Take No Prisoners by Gayle Wilson -- THIRD PLACE
The Business of Strangers -- HM
Worth Every Risk by Dianna Love Snell -- HM

Historical Romantic Mystery/Suspense
Every Whispered Word by Karyn Monk -- FIRST PLACE
Suspense and Sensibility by Carrie Bebris -- SECOND PLACE
His Dark Desires by Jennifer St. Giles -- THIRD PLACE
Counterfeit Countess by Cheryl Bolen -- HM
The Lady in Question by Judith Laik -- HM

Inspirational Romantic Mystery/Suspense
Love the Sinner by Lynn Bulock -- FIRST PLACE
In Plain Sight by Lorena McCourtney -- SECOND PLACE
Distant Echoes by Colleen Coble -- THIRD PLACE
Black Sands by Colleen Coble -- HM
Her Brother's Keeper by Valerie Hansen -- HM

Paranormal, FTTF Romantic Mystery/Suspense

Unmasked by C.J. Barry -- FIRST PLACE
Crimson moon by Rebecca York -- SECOND PLACE
Heart Choice by Robin D. Owen -- THIRD PLACE
Brighid's Quest by P.C. Cast -- HM
Through a Crimson Veil by Patti O'Shea -- HM

Mainstream Mystery Romantic/Suspense
Unzipped by Lois Greiman -- FIRST PLACE
Killer Takes All by Erica Spindler -- SECOND PLACE
Batteries Required by Jennifer Apodaca -- THIRD PLACE
Darkness on the Edge of Town by J. Carson Black -- HM
I Spy by Jacey Ford -- HM

Single Title Romantic Mystery/Suspense
Sex and the Serial Killer by Jennifer Skully - FIRST PLACE
Dead Reckoning by Linda Castillo - SECOND PLACE
To The Limit by Cindy Gerard - THIRD PLACE
Wednesday's Child by Gayle Wilson -- HM
Extreme Exposure by Pamela Clare -- HM

And the committee is thrilled to announce the OVERALL WINNER of the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery Suspense is:

C. J. BARRY for UNMASKED

The Daphne Committee is pleased to announce the UNPUBLISHED winners and finalists of the prestigious 2006 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense:

Category (Series) Romantic Mystery/Suspense
The Hostage Heart by Kathy Altman - FIRST PLACE
Secrets by Jerre Ferns - SECOND PLACE
Forgotten Danger by Kathleen Cherry - THIRD PLACE
Best of Intentions by Kathy Altman - HM
Man on a Mission by S.L. Hardwick -- HM

Historical Romantic Mystery/Suspense
A Dangerous Affair by Nancy Herriman - FIRST PLACE
The Assassin's Lady by Delilah A. Ahrendt - SECOND PLACE
Secrets of the Blackwood by Christine E. Johnson
Fire at Midnight by Lisa M. Wilkinson - HM
My Pirate Love by Inara Scott - HM

Inspirational Romantic Mystery/Suspense
Gift of Death by Ronda Wells -- FIRST PLACE
Cargo to Die For: A Want-Ad Mystery by Kelly Ann Riley - SECOND PLACE
Neither Race Nor Creed by Ruth Logan Herne - THIRD PLACE
Manna Reign by Dineen A. Miller - HM
Asylum by Jill Nutter - HM

Paranormal (FTTF) Romantic Mystery/Suspense

Queen of Psycho Hearts by Joyce Ellen Armond -- FIRST PLACE
Cold Fury by Caroline Dunsheath - SECOND PLACE
Vamping the Chameleon by Barbara Monajem - THIRD PLACE
Waking the Dead by Carla Hughes - HM
Phantom Spirit by Sharon Forret - HM

Mainstream Mystery/Suspense *Due to tied first round scores, six finalists advanced to final round judging)
Second Hand Rose by Kathryn J. Kelly - FIRST PLACE
To Each Man an Island by Barbara Nickless - SECOND PLACE
No One Heard Her Scream by Cindy Marolt - THIRD PLACE
What You Wish For by Mira Lyn Sperl -- HM
Above the Fold by Corrina G. Lavitt -- HM
The Mandate by Philine Tucker -- HM

Single Title Romantic Mystery/Suspense

Under Cover by Allison Fippinger - FIRST PLACE
The Village by Allison Carmody - SECOND PLACE
Chasing Maggie by Susan Lanier-Graham - THIRD PLACE
Affair at Midnight by Sharon Wray - HM
Prey Tell by Valentina Plant - HM

And the committee is thrilled to announce that the OVERALL WINNER of the UNPUBLISHED Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense is:

NANCY HERRIMAN for A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

Carly Phillips introduces her best Buddy

NYT Bestseller, Carly Phillips is here to tell you:
"I'm a dog lover. I think they are so much more than Man's Best
Friend. ... I mean Woman's Best Friend. Buddy is the best,
sweetest dog and he stays by my side all day long. There's a
dog in Cross My Heart called Digger and he's the heroine's best
friend until her hero comes back into her life! I try to
incorporate pets in stories whenever I can because they are so
much fun."

Carly is a member of www.plotmonkeys.com (blog w/the monkeys!)
You can find out more about her new book CROSS MY HEART at
www.carlyphillips.com.

Lyda Morehouse is not about to be outdone by her alter ego

I suspect this Lyda chick may know a thing or two about Tate Hallaway. One thing is certain, they seem to share the same pets.

Lyda says: "This is Kirk -- yes, named for James T. When he first came to live
with he was named of all things "Vicious." It wasn't really him. We
had a number of cats in the house all named after Greek/Roman gods:
Artemis, Apollo... so we were entertaining names of that caliber, like
Calypso or Perseus. Then he came strutting in to the kitchen with a
swagger that seemed to say, "How you ladies doin'?" and we both looked
at each other and said, "Kirk." And, as one of my truly geeky friends
later pointed out James T. Kirk meets the god Apollo in the Old Trek
episode, "Who Mourns for Adonis"...."
Be sure to stop by Lyda's site.
M

Tate Hallaway harbors vampire kitties

Ha! Made you want to read this post, eh? Seriously, these kitties are too cute to be dangerous.
Tate says: "The big orange kitty is our beloved prince, LeBeau. He died at six
years old of a heart attack (no kidding), but he was always
personality plus. You know how some animals find you and not the
other way around? When Shawn found Beau playing in traffic in Swede
Hollow, Shawn asked him if he wanted to come home with us. Beau
literally just stepped into our car as if to say "Home, James!" So,
after checking the neighborhood for a lost cat, she did just that.
Then she called me at work and said, "Uh, there's this cat on our
porch..... We don't have to keep him, but...." Before she could even
say another word, just said, "I'll call the vet to make an
appointment." I just knew he was staying with us."
"The other two babies are Inky and Peep. They're with us now. They
live with their foster mother Delia, Miss Piggy, and All Ball. (Yes,
we're the crazy cat ladies). Anyway, this photo was taken when they
were only six weeks old. Mason, our son, was just over a year old and
so we asked him to name the new kitties. His first inclination was
Inky and Blinky, but then Peep talked. Peep can't meow properly (vet
says her mother may have had a cold when she was pregnant with her;
though Inky her sibling meows just fine). The sounds she makes are a
very high pitched, whispering "eeeehhpp." So, she became Peep. My
favorite thing about Peep is that once a day she will come into the
computer room and "yell" at me. She lets out a long string of peeps,
apparently just to let me know she'd rather have stayed with her
mother all those months ago. Inky is the only male in our household
besides Mason. Like Mason, he prefers the toilet seat up. He's the
only cat I know that like to drink from the toilet like a dog. ;-)"
Thanks for sharing, Tate! Please stop by Tate's site. And also check out her blog.


[note: let it be said the Michele HATES photobucket. After maxxing out my Flickr.com account for the month I moved over to Photobucket. Their resizing feature is NOT GOOD, I tell you. I resized many times, and it kept showing a monstrous pic, but now, it shows teeny pics above. Sigh... Wanted them to be bigger, but I gave up.]

Barbara McMahon Plays Ball

Meet S'mores and Mandy, the proud owners of author Barbara McMahon.
Barbara's latest book is THE SHIEKH'S SECRET, a July release from
Harlequin Romance, and you can catch her "Dishing With the Divas"
by taking the link we've provided in our sidebar.

Here's what Barbara says about her two beauties:

I believe all homes should have a pet or two or three. I currently
have a darling cat and two wonderful, sometimes wild, dogs. S'mores,
because of his coloring, is my favorite, until Mandy, the German Shepherd,
comes over for a kiss. Their favorite activity by far is "Play Ball."
Whenever I say that, they both jump up from wherever they are and head
for the door. We have a chucker (plastic thing that holds the ball on a
long handle and I can throw balls farther than I can by hand--and I don't
get dog slobber on my fingers!). I usually have about 10 tennis balls
around at any one time. As fast as I can sling those balls, they run
after them. Time and again.

For a variation on a theme, in winter, when we have several inches
of snow, they love to chase snowballs, often digging in the snow where
one went in trying to locate the "ball."

The rest of the time they're in my office with me, lying on my feet,
or nearby--bringing me joy and delight every day.

Oh, the cat is equally loved. Cassidy just puts up with the dogs.
His favorite spot is in my office window sill trying for the birds
at the feeder.

Barbara McMahon
www.barbaramcmahon.com
TRUTH BE TOLD, Harlequin SuperRomance, June, 2006
THE SHIEKH'S SECRET, Harlequin Romance, July, 2006

Not in Atlanta

Everyone's in Atlanta for the RWA national conference. Except me. At least, that's the way it feels. All the blogs are quiet. Nobody's sending me email... Of course, it was my choice not to go this year. I have a finite amount of money allocated to conferences and I've already spent this year's allotment to attend the annual Association of Fundraising Professionals conference--also, at it happens, held in Altlanta this year. I am a grant writer in my other life, so it was money well spent. I learned a lot. Did a lot of networking. Made a lot of contacts. All the stuff I'd do at RWA. But, darn, I didn't get to wear sequins even once!

Cycles. . . Riding the Ups and Downs

Anybody remember the early 80's craze for "biorhythms?" Based on your birthdate and body temperature or something, experts were supposedly able to track the flow of your physical, mental and emotional energies. Because each followed it's own wave and peak pattern and had a slightly different length of cycle, there were times that one part of you peaked while the others were off in mid-cycle somewhere. . . or hitting the skids. Every great once in a while-- like once every two months or so (it's a little fuzzy to me now)-- all three areas would hit their highpoint at the same time and a tremendous HIGH resulted. Unfortunately, this also meant they would sometimes bottom out together, resulting in a major DOWNER. The trick was to take advantage of the highs and minimize the damage done during the lows. They claimed to be able to predict your best days and your worst with scientific accuracy.

My theory is that this happens in publishing, too. We've got three major aspects of a book's life: the Creativite part (the written work), the Publishing part, and the more nebulous Market part. (It's my theory, so I get to name the parts.) For a book to do well, at least two of the three elements have to peak together. It starts with the writing itself and with the passion and fury and heart we put into a work. Simultaneously, there's the publishing part, which starts when the book is bought and continues on through all of the production and promotional parts of the process, including all things done to whip up a "buzz." Coincidental to both of those is the ebb and flow of the Market, where books are shelved, bought, read, discussed, reviewed, and occasionally anticipated and adored(Harry Potter) or discredited and reviled(A Million Little Pieces).

Major mega-hits require that, like with a biorhythm, all three factors are at their peak at the same time. It has to be a great book, published at the top of the publisher's game, that enters a market ready/hungry for something fresh, new, innovative, exciting, comforting, challenging, or at least timely.

Well, duh. Only makes sense.

Yeah? Well, do you know when it's happening? Can you feel when it's all coming together? Better still, can you tell which one of the three "Fates" is holding you back? Is this all just common sense, no theories needed?

Ever written a book that had your heart and soul in it and should have dazzled readers and reviewers alike, should have made the top of the lists, and should have thrust you into a new publishing level. . . only to have your publisher slap a hideous cover on it that confuses the buyers and sets you back two steps in your career? Ever had an editor leave and your potential blockbuster becomes the footnote to another editor's very long publishing list? Ever had war or hurricanes or train derailments sidetrack your best chance for stardom? If you've been around for very long, you probably have stories to tell.

So even if you see what's happening, what can you do about it?

Hang in there. I'm not being cute, I'm being honest. There will be times in this business that you feel like Fate just slammed the door in your face and caught your fingers in the crack. Times when you just can't seem to win. Times that your best goes unnoticed and unrewarded in the publishing houses and marketplace. But like with those biorhythms. . . if you hang in there and keep writing, sooner or later things will turn around. Opportunity is still there and sooner or later, you will rise on a current of creativity into the right time and the right slot. And whether you make the NYT or a single reviewer's "keeper shelf," you can feel proud and satisfied that your work was recognized and has made a difference in somebody's reading life.

My biggest commercial success was The Perfect Mistress, published in 1995. It represented the highest and best period of my creativity to that point and had a great deal of my heart in it. It got a wonderful cover with a sexy little pair of shoes on it, against a foiled, hot pink background. It followed a book that some (arguably) have called my best book ever, The Last Bachelor. It's been said that every bestseller owes a debt to the book that came before it. . . that's certainly true of "Mistress." Sales and enthusiasm were so strong for "Bachelor" that it carried over to "Mistress."
(There should be a picture of the cover here, but Blogger isn't cooperating! Check back!)

The cover was very good (not brilliant, I confess) and my house was wildly enthusiastic about its chances for a good showing on the lists. They worked hard, talked it up, and gave it their all. Also, booksellers really pushed and hand sold the book in a lot of places. Plus, I had a postcard program going and I had bought these sexy little plastic "Barbie/Cinderella" shoe give-aways that people went crazy for. My publisher had slotted me in a month that probably had less competition than the summer feeding frenzy. . . the market was primed. . . and the best happened. NYT and tremendous sales!

Every aspect of the industry had to come together to make it happen. And part of that timing was simply. . . luck. I'm very well aware of that. And I'm very grateful for that opportunity and experience.

Now. . . is it asking too much of Fate to bring those conditions around again next month for my September release?

Anybody have examples to help flesh out my theory? Ever been on a major peak of all three elements of publishing? Willing to tell us about it?

Battle preparations

Okay, so I'm getting ready to go to the RWA conference.

It always seems like a good idea when I sign up. It's my professional conference. I can afford a couple of days.

What I forget is that it doesn't take a couple of days. It takes about two weeks - at least three days to recover when I get back, from too little sleep, bad food, and a touch more alcohol than I would normally ingest.

Plus at least a solid week beforehand to get myself in shape to go. (That's not counting the diet panic, which starts a couple of months in advance.)

I suppose, if I kept myself together better, it might not be so much work to get ready. But one of the great advantages of writing is nobody sees me work. Which means the makeup doesn't get hauled out for months at a time, I live in flip-flops, and as to a bra? Forget it.

So I've got to try on all the "professional" clothes in my closet, which rarely get worn, and see what still fits/what still looks remotely fashionable/what needs fixing. The appropriate undergarments and shoes are even more of a trick. (When did slips go out of fashion? I had to go to five stores to find one, but the thigh cling on a flippy little flowered silk skirt was too much to unleash on an unsuspecting public.) Sniff the makeup - has it gone bad? Do I remember how to use an eyelash curler?

Appointments for a haircut, highlights, manicure, pedicure. And heavens, what is one to do about spider veins now that pantyhose are only worn by those who haven't opened a Vogue in ten years. (Hey, I had to have something to read while I was getting my hair highlighted.)

My husband thinks it's the one great difference between men and women: men couldn't care less what other men think about how they look. But, going off to a conference that is 99% women, here I am putting more thought into my appearance than I do the rest of the entire year put together.

But it's not because of the other women there. It's because it's the one time I'm supposed to look like a grown-up, professional working woman. The clothes are tricky - you have to look professional, but creative at the same time, so uniform-y suits won't do it.

Yeah, a real working writer looks like a slob, most of the time. But not this week. I just wish it wasn't quite so much work! Ten pages are easier than looking good any day. I don't know how those of you who have to put on shoes to go to work everyday do it.

Susie

The Devine Miss Midgie

Our Guest Pet Blogger today is the sumptuous and daring Thea Devine. . . known far and wide in the romance world for her tough, sensual heroes and erotically venturesome heroines. But she has a softer, more playful side as well. Who would have guessed that there was a Devine Miss M behind the Devine Miss T?

"This is our Midgie, who came to us when she was a two year old unhappy, nippy untrained mini-doxie. She was my nearly blind 90 year old mother-in-law's dog, a gift from a well-meaning granddaughter when mom's dog died unexpectedly. When mom went into the hospital, we took Midgie, despite the fact we had our beloved lab mix Maggie and sister cats Charlotte and Emily Bronte.

I did NOT want the dog. I particularly did not want this dog, who'd run free for two years and who, on the ride home I soothed by calling her Munchkin. Munch. Munchie.

But I fell in love almost immediately. She proved so easy to train that she would run to the door or bat her bowl with her nose when she wanted out; and when I intuit what she wants correctly, she jumps up and down or races around joyously. She loves company on the couch, doesn't like to be held but she loves a good tummy rub.

And I realized that she had had a rough two baby years: she was taken from her mother at six weeks, put on an airplane and flown to New York from Texas, handled by strangers, given to an old lady who really couldn't take of her, and abruptly removed from that environment into one with big dog and more strangers. I wonder that she's so good, so even tempered, such a delight.

Surprisingly, there were no integration problems with Maggie or the cats. And when Maggie developed cancer and had a leg amputated, it was Munch who lay with her for hours on the couch, mirroring her body language in a most fascinating way. When my mom came to live with us, she fell in love with Midgie too. But I'm the worst and most intrusive. I'm always holding or petting her. I make up silly nicknames: Mrs. Goodmunch, chunky munchie, Desdemunchie. And you know that famous play, A Moon for the Munchbegotten ...? I'm gaga over this dog, absolutely nuts about her. Can't imagine our life without her.

Maggie passed away last year, after surving a year of cancer and teaching us all how deal with illness gracefully. Emily died suddenly of kidney failure. Charlotte is 18 now, and coping with the addition of two new and younger cats to the family. And Midgie keeps going in her funny Munchie way. Just look at the picture. Don't you think she's smiling?"

Thea Devine
Her Little Black Book
Pocket Books, October 06

COMING ATTRACTIONS

What's ahead:

This week we will feature more guest writers and their pets, so be sure to check back.

Helen, Betina, and Susie are gearing up for the RWA conference being held in Atlanta, and we expect reports once they recover. This will be Helen's first post-sale conference. And of course we want to hear all the juicy gossip and tales of wild drunkenness.

COVERS, COVERS, COVERS!

I firmly believe a cover can make or break a career. A standout cover is especially important for new and emerging writers.

This is how it happens:
Reader walks into book store.
Cool cover!
Name? Nobody I’ve heard of.
But cool cover!
Picks it up. Enjoys the way it feels. Turns it over, reads description.
If the browser is still hooked, she opens book, flips through pages, reads/skims first page. Maybe one or two more pages. Puts it back or buys it.

In a matter of seconds the book you spent a year writing is chosen or rejected.

I’ve asked the other members of Riding to join me in posting favorite covers, preferably from their own books. Please tell us why you like the cover. I’d also love to know if you think the cover had an impact on sales.

(If I did this correctly, all the covers should appear below this post.)

Black and White. . . the spectrum

Here's my all-time worst cover. The book was a sweet, sexy Tudor romp originally titled "Knaves and Hearts." Then the title was changed and they decided to experiment with the cover. . . and the book came out the week Iraq invaded Kuwait and America was rolling toward war. Nobody was reading, much less books with forbidding black covers and steamy neo-porn step-backs. sigh.


I've had a lot of really nice covers, but this may bemy favorite. I got to have input on this one: I asked that the knight be running into and tilting the last T in "test." And I loved the big red banner with NYT Bestseller.

yikes and a big WTF!

okay, i just found my worst cover. i've never seen it online before, but a customer added it to amazon. this was done with...what is it called if it's just artwork the publisher has lying around? haha. i had to share this.
horrendous and a big WTF.

Covers: The Medium Is the Message

Let's hope this is my best-yet cover. Eveyone says so. This was the first incarnation. In the final version the title is white and "pops" better. I know shirtless hunks are still popular, but horses have generally been good to me. RIDE A PAINTED PONY is due out in hardcover in late November, and cover treatment for hardback books tend to be more "up market." Read: subtle and classy.



My first galloping horse was widely copied. The book was THE LAST TRUE COWBOY, and the paperback (this one) was better than the blue hard cover. I think the orange was a good color choice.



Finally, my least successful covers, which graced two of my favorite books. REASON TO BELIEVE is a contemporary story. The art department searched for a way to show the American Indian theme and women's fiction in a cover image. The hero is a pipe carrier, and they showed only the pipe stem at my request. It's considered disrepectul to display the pipe stem and bowl attached (which is why you should see them side by side in museum displays.) The result is a beautiful cover that probably says "historical" to the customer. That's deadly. The historical reader picks up the book, reads the blurb about a contemporary story, puts the book down. The contemporary reader never picks the book up. SUNRISE SONG is the other less successful cover. I'll spare you. The cover is a gold ball and a shaft of wheat. It says Wonder Bread to me. Originally the shaft of wheat was floral. I told them that nothing like that grows on the prairie, so they switched to wheat. Can't say I wasn't warned. My agent says that very often asking for a major change leads to a major bad-to-worse result because they're likely to do a "paint over". Sadly SUNRISE SONG is still the story that garners the most reader response.

Ah, covers.

Tree covers and car covers

All right, I had to restrain myself to two covers. I've had so many fabulous covers. And a few duds.
TAME ME NOT was my third book, and I was so excited to see the cover because the hero was a musketeer! Whoopee! There would be a fab musketeer tunic, flashing that gorgeous silver lace fleur de lys, a jauntily tilted hat and swords, swords, and more swords!
Instead, I got trees. Not even pretty trees with leaves on them, but ugly trees with no color whatsoever. The hero is wrenching up the heroine's skirt because he's jealous, he didn't get the blue corset she's wearing. Cause it least it would have been similiar in color to the musketeer tunic he should have been wearing. Oh, I got the hat with the feather. It's difficult to see, but what looks like a black horse butt with a white tail above the "M" in ME is the hat. Sigh...
Now my current favorite happens to be my September Bombshell release, GETAWAY GIRL.

Sure, I've complained on my own blog about it looking like Kill Bill: Vol 3. But it's very eye-catching, don' t you think? I feel sure it'll draw interest when on the book shelves. And it's got a BMW. Just what I asked for! Even the exact color and model.
Now, not once did I ever put the heroine in a yellow jumpsuit in the story. She likes to wear short, flirty plaid skirts and chunky Doc Martin boots. But that jumpsuit is how the art department translated my description of her attire.
I'm over it, though, because this cover rocks. And the blurb line on the cover? SHE'S FAST—AND THAT'S MAKING SOMEONE FURIOUS. Corny, but effective.
:-)
Michele

My Best (and Worst) Cover

I thought it would be fun (and instructive!) to show what I consider one of my best covers alongside one of my worst.

The cover for Good Time Girl exactly portrays the mood and tone of the story inside--hot, sexy, and fun. I've had readers tell me they picked it up just because of the cover. (Yes!) I like it because of that, and because the art department got all the details (hair color, build, clothing, etc.) right. You'd be suprised how often they don't--and how much it can bug the author when the art department get's it wrong.

In contrast, see the cover for Every Kid Needs a Hero. It's a hot, sexy romance, too, but you'd never know it by the cover, would you? Or the title, either, for that matter. (Which was most definitely not my choice.) This book was #5 in a special series called Delta Justice. Many readers thought the title was Delta Justice and didn't buy it because they thought they'd read it before. To date, it is my all time worst selling title--and I believe most of the fault for that is because of the cover.


This third cover isn't my best or worst, it's my first. The book was published in 1984 and was a sexy romance--for the time. I loved (and still love) the cover simply because it was my first. But I am always bugged by the fact that the heroine has long, polished nails. She's a makeup artist (and a single mom) and I make a point in the story of mentioning that she keeps her nails short and unpolished for practicality. (I told you it bugs an author when the art department gets the details wrong!)

Anne's Favorite Cover

HUSH, Penguin/NAL/ 2002

This is one of my favorite covers. I think it did everything it was supposed to do. Great artwork, great font, immediately tells you the story is a scary suspense. It also had broad appeal, attracting female, male, and teenage readers. This is by far the best cover I’ve ever had. The book sold well, and continues to sell well four years later.

What page are you on?

Okay, I admit the thought process is a bit stifled this morning and coming up with a blog topic just isn't brewing in the old noggin. Whenever my daughter calls, her first words are "What are you doing?" I'm working. Sitting here, behind the computer, making things up. Sigh...
So, I thought I'd show you what I'm doing. To be exact, this is where I am right now.

I'm right there, on page 59. This is the stage where, after I've spent a week of editing the first draft with a red pen, I then sit down before the computer and type in the corrections. I've got 400 hundreds pages of this stuff. I already have a headache. The crossouts are the best. Highlight. Delete. Whoopee! But those small red chicken scratch marks? Can you read them? Now, I know this copy is much smaller than the original, so of course you can't read them. But trust me, I still can't read them at actual size. What the heck did I write there? Anyone? Betina? Bueller? :-)
It's one of my biggest problems during edits. I always remind myself as I'm writing in corrections to be slow, careful, neat. Ha! So now here I am, trying to figure out what I was thinking at the time, and at least try to come up with a semblance of the former idea. Ah heck, I give up. If it was all that good, I'd just know it, right? On to the next page!
So that's what I'm doing. I've got the iTunes blasting. My feet are up. I'm already half way through the Choxie Warm Spiced Caramels. And I'm still in my jammies.
Do you want to be on the same page as I am? I'll trade you a day in my shoes for a day behind your desk under the flourescent lights with the angry boss breathing down your neck while you search the files for that document that you know you made in triplicate but are now sure has been eaten by cyber dogs.

Nope. I tease. :-) I like this gig, red chicken scratches and all.
Michele

The Burning Question

Today's question is from Marie. What was (or is) your biggest writing challenge and how did (or do) you deal with it?

Help me! I'm a slob.

Okay, true confessions. I'm a slob. I can't help myself. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's seems so simple. You use something--you put it away. Step one, step two. But it doesn't work that way in my world. In my world it's--you use something, then you stare at it for a month, then you trip over it for a couple more weeks, then you realize company's coming. Panic ensues--the family is put on code red and eventually semi-neatness is restored.

I realize a relatively intelligent human being shouldn't live this way, but I come by my slobbiness naturally. It's a inherited trait. Like dimples and teenage acne, so I don't think I should have to take responsibility for the fact that, right now, there's a sandal and a broken bridle mixing it up with the dirty dishes on my kitchen table. I once found a dead mouse stuck to my mother's floor. That's right. A dead mouse. (Don't tell her I told you.) So obviously I can't help myself.

In my defense, I'm creative. Really. Okay, right now I don't have much proof because I can't seem to write to save my soul, but I mean...on a larger scale. Such as, I'd rather cook than clean up (although in actuality I don't do either).

Right now I'm working on a costume for my daughter's county fair horse show. One year she was Pippi Longstocking on her purple-spotted horse. This year she's going to be a flower. Her noble steed shall evolve into a honey bee. Ridiculous you say? I absolutely agree. Especially since I can't sew. But the creative gene doesn't necessarily involve talent. It's one of the sad truths of life. So I just limp along with what I have, which happens to be...a sandal, a broken bridle and a ton of soiled crockery.

So come on, true confessions, tell me your dirty little secrets. How messy are you?

What's Up With This?

Generally speaking, I’m attracted to dark haired, five o-clock shadow type actors who play dark heroes and bad boys. You know the type, sullen, brooding, men too sexy to be human. Jude Law does nothing for me. I enjoy his movies, think he’s a great actor, but I feel no pull toward him as a man. Clive Owen on the other hand … well, that’s for another day and another blog.

My point is that every once in a while, an actor slips between my parameters. A guy I never would have believed I’d find attractive sneaks up and surprises me. Take Owen Wilson, for example.

The first big movie he starred in was Armageddon. He played quirky Oscar Choi, and I honestly don’t remember him. I was too caught up in Liv Tyler’s beauty, Ben Affleck’s charm, Steve Buscemi’s bizarro character, and the fact that I can’t stand Bruce Willis. But when I watched Shanghai Noon, the comedy western with Jackie Chan, Owen Wilson popped off the screen for me. I remember thinking, “Who is this guy, and why have I never seen him before?”

I just saw You, Me and Dupree yesterday afternoon, and you’d think I’d find myself drawn to Matt Dillon’s dark masculinity. Noooo, I’m mesmerized my Dupree. The strange thing about Owen is that I can hate the movie and love watching him, broken nose and all. He’s not buff or handsome in the typical Hollywood sense, and the list of his so-so movies is as long as my arm. But I always enjoy his performance.

Help me out here. What is it about the guy? Am I alone in this, or are there other Owen Wilson lovers out there?
Are there other actors you think are to die for and other women just don’t get it?

Sisters

It occured to me that since I'd posted a picture of my sister more-or-less in drag as Captain Jack, I should post a picture of her as she really is. That's her on the right with the short pixie haircut. I'm the one with the curls. We're at her oldest son's wedding reception. As you can see, she didn't follow the mother-of-the-groom-must-wear-beige-and-fade-into-the-background rule (as discussed in a previous post). But then, she rarely follows any rules--which makes her pretty much the exact opposite of me. Growing up, I was the goody-two-shoes and she was the rebellious wild child. We grew up to be best friends, anyway.

I think sisters (biological or otherwise) are hugely impotant for women, especially as we...ah...mature. After all, they were there from the beginning. They understand how and why you became who you are. They know your thought processes. They don't need to have things explained. And when you say, "Remember when..." they do. I can't imagine life without my sister.

How 'bout you? Do you have a sister? Is she your best friend or just a casual acquaintance?

Fill Up the Tank: Recipe For Kid-Made Summer Treat

I got this idea from an article in the paper. The fishbowl is actually a cookie jar, but a fishbowl with a wide opening would do. The trick is to put the fruit cocktail on the bottom and then add already soft-set blue jello. I didn't think to do that and had to strain the soft-set jello through a colander to separate the fruit, put fruit back in the bottom of the jar, and put the jello (soft-set, that's the key) on top AFTER my granddaughter had already made the mixture and refrigerated it for an hour. Tried to push the fruit down like the article said. Didn't work. But it was okay--never too early for a lesson in coming up with a Plan B. The final ingredient is gummy fish. We found a package of Nemo gummies, which don't look really fishy, but you get the idea. You have to push those down one by one along the sides. The girls chose strawberry Cool Whip to top each serving. This was our best cooking-with-Nana experience so far. (Nana isn't much of a cookie baker.)

Movies, anyone?

I confess, I am a movie junkie. Always have been. Besides taking you away to another world for a couple of hours, movies are also a great way to get out of the oppressive Indiana summer humidity and eat Milk Duds. I only eat Milk Duds at the movies. It's a rule I have to keep me from eating them all the time. Which I would if I didn't have that strict rule. Anyway... In the past two weeks I've seen:

Superman Returns -- Much darker than the Chris Reeve movies. The special effects were terrific except that I kept wondering (out loud, so my husband had to shush me) why no one broke any bones or, at least, bloodied their nose when the plane came hurtling down out of the sky at warp speed and the passengers were tossed around inside the plane like ice in a martini shaker. Also, is it just me, or is Lois Lane really the dumbest woman in the world? Or the most fool-hardy, at least. Who drags their five-year-old kid along when they're chasing the bad guys?

The Devil Wears Prada -- Deliciously wicked movie. Meryl Streep was fierce and funny and scary and sad, almost all at the same time. And the clothes! The shoes! Those thigh-high Chanel boots!! The only thing I didn't like about it was it perpetuates a very skewed body image. I mean, come on, a size six is FAT?!

Priates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest -- At 2+ hours, it was a little too long, but I loved it, anyway. I will admit up front that I love pretty much anything with Johnny Depp is in. And the Cracken (I think that's how you spell it) was very cool.

Speaking of Johnny, this picture of him is actually my sister--yes, my sister--done up as Captain Jack for Halloween last year. She took took theater arts in college and is a very talented makeup artist.

So, what movies have y'all seen? Which would you recommend, and why?

How much truth can we take?

Ever notice how some writers spill their guts and and make a million fans in the process?

I've always been on the fence with this one: Is it better to share the gritty details of your writing dilemmas and difficulties, or do you plaster a smile on your face and show the world only your successful side? I'm still undecided about it. . . have generally erred on the side of professional silence, except in occasional, intentionally funny speeches. But where's the fun in that? It's beginning to seem to me that "telling" garners more empathy and more understanding (also more interest) than maintaining a ladylike professionalism. . . especially with blogs becoming so popular.

Dirty little writing secrets. For fun and profit. I'm not suggesting we should blab about every down time, wrong writing alley, and contract dispute we encounter. But does revealing something of the struggle we go through in writing make us more human and accessible to readers. . . and fellow writers? I know it works for some and I can't help thinking that if Kathleen Woodiwiss had had a blog back in the day, fans and readers would have been a lot more sympathetic about her lack of production and her decision not to respond to fan letters.


My most recent "DLWS" involves my upcoming book. (Brace for a blatant promotional plug.) (See above.) (Fabulous book that almost didn't get written.) I had a devil of a time writing my September release-- or should I say, the book that was supposed to be my September release. It started out to be The Book of Forever Young and ended up being The Book of True Desires. The journey from "Forever Young" to "True Desires" makes for some ugly reading. . . which I have decided to share in an RWR article called "Breaking Up With The Bad Idea." And I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not. Baring my soul. . . sort of. . . in the name of helping other writers and sharing the pain. . . may be a colossal mistake.

What do you think? By "telling all" am I revealing feet of clay that readers won't want to see? Or is any publicity good publicity?

What about you? Got some dirty little writing secrets you're dying to get off your chest? Like maybe what you hate most about your process and would love to change. Or maybe what you hate about the biz. Talk to Mama, honey. Get it all out.

Dynamic Duo

Betina Krahn here. Let me introduce you to the schnauzers of legend. First is Ticonderoga, whom we call "Tyke." He's a lover and a dancer (literally) who has a mind of his own and thinks the furniture in my office is HIS office.



This is Tippicanoe, called "Tippi" who is our household princess. She knows she's cute and she uses it shamelessly. For the record, she had her ears cropped before she became a Krahn. Relentlessly cheerful, she never seems to have a bad day.



Together they're quite a team and play or nap in my office as I work. They also remind me when it's time for lunch or some exercise. Rex had to pass the sniff and lick test with them before he could become part of the family.

The Day My Husband Tried to Kill Me, or ...

I am Woman Hear Me Roar, or … Help! I’m Having a Midlife Crisis. I’ll let you decide.

I’m relatively athletic and like to try new things. Last summer I knee-boarded behind a ski boat, and this past winter I snowboarded for the first time, and I enjoyed both experiences. My husband’s been trying to get me to mountain bike with him for years. It’s not literally “mountain” biking, we have no mountains in Minnesota, but it’s off-road, dirt track stuff. Like this picture on the left. He bought me this great bike and put shocks on both the seat post and the front frame, so why I’d been avoiding it, I wasn’t sure.

This past weekend, my husband got smart and put my son on it. “Mom, you want to go mountain biking today?” It was 88 degrees in the shade. I should have passed.

We went to Lebanon Hills in Eagan that has bike trails specifically designed for off-road bikers of varying skill levels, but all of it’s tough. We’re talking 6 miles of tight turns, log rolls, and rock gardens. Turns out I’ve got pretty good intuition about this whole mountain biking business.

When I came to this first group of rocks, I managed the first part, but after taking that right turn, I “took a header” over a boulder in the middle and smashed my knee up nicely.



This is me after finishing the trail. You can't see it, but I'm dirty as heck, my shoulders, my legs. And yep, that’s blood on my left knee. After 6.1 miles of that stuff, my bruises are sporting bruises.

But I’m stubborn. For anyone who doesn’t know me, really stubborn. I hadn’t broken anything yet, so if my twelve year old son could do it, I could do it. I successfully navigated my first log roll and gained some confidence, tried a couple beginner challenging things, and walked over some of it, but by the time I finished, I felt like queen of the world. Well, at least a princess.

At my son’s urging, and feeling the drag of my upcoming 45th birthday, I went out again the next day. This time to Theodore Wirth park and a trail so narrow there literally wasn’t room for handlebars between the tree trunks at several spots. But I did it. I actually stayed on my bike, fitting my right handlebar past one tree trunk, my left through the next, while moving forward slowly. I wouldn’t have been able to do this trail if not for the experience the day before. I only walked through two spots.

So today’s my birthday, and I’ve got a big scab on my left knee and too many bruises on my arms and legs to count. To be honest, I’m getting too old for this crap. Help!

Does anyone have any great-safe-ideas for keeping those youthful vibes alive? For staying vital? Then again, what about suggestions for accepting life's natural course and aging gracefully? What tried and true methods do you use for getting through the birthday blues?

The Burning Question

Today's question is a combination of a related concerns from two of our readers, anonymous in Minnesota and Marcella. They ask: Have you ever worked with an agent or editor you didn’t get along with? How did you handle it? How do you know when your agent should become your ex-agent?

Anne McAllister's sweet guys

Join us in welcoming Anne McAllister as one of our featured guests.

Anne has written over 50 romance novels for Harlequin Presents, Silhouette Desire and Special Edition and Harlequin American as well as novellas and a single title.

She has won two RITA awards from the Romance Writers of America -- for COWBOY PRIDE and THE STARDUST COWBOY -- and has had seven other books which were RITA finalists. Her books have also been finalists for the National Readers' Choice Award. In 2000 she was named Midwest Fiction Writers "Writer of the Year" and also received Romantic Times' Career Achievement Award as "Series Author of the Year."

THE ANTONIDES MARRIAGE DEAL, Presents, April 2006
THE SANTORINI BRIDE, Presents, Feb 2007


Meet Gunnar -- who reads Proust and eats spaghetti and gives speeches at the drop of a hat.























Micah, who never met a person he didn't like or a toy he didn't want to carry around in his mouth.

















Mitch, who thinks that everything is a ball -- or should be -- and would you please stop just standing there and THROW something so he can chase it.
















visit Anne's blog

visit Anne's web site

Pirates and Wedding Gowns

My son's getting married in a few weeks. He's twenty-one. Yikes. I'm pretty sure I was never that young. And I certainly wouldn't have gotten married at such a tender age.

Well, okay, I was exactly the same age he is when I spoke my connubial vows, but still, twenty-one is younger than it used to be. Right?

Anyway, young or not, he is giving me the opportunity to buy a new dress. Never a bad thing. However, my sister recently informed me, quite cruelly I think, that the mother of the groom is supposed to wear beige and keep her mouth shut. Ouch. I've never been that fond of beige. Or of keeping my mouth shut, come to that.

So I'm planning to wear red, display his naked baby pictures, and tell stories about the time he wore the end of a watermellon on his head for three straight hours. Oh, and about how he loves pirates. That's right, he may still be an infant in my eyes, but at least he's old enough to appreciate the beauty of pirates. In fact, he and his bride will be coming home just so we can all go see Captain Jack Sparrow on the big screen. Ahhhh. I told them we'd have to dress in costume in honor of the event. They didn't even refuse to come home after they heard the news.

So I'm off to look for formal gowns and pirates sashes. Any suggestions on either would be greatly appreciated. Unless they involve the color beige.

In praise of second hand dogs

Or, in this case, third-hand dogs.

That beauty you see up there is Emma.

She was originally a stray, found in Maine at about six months old, severely underweight. She would, the shelter thought, eventually be 50 or 60 pounds. (oops!) She was adopted by a lovely young family - we'll call them the Millers, though that's not their name - who already had one big dog, a 100 lb. shepherd/chow mix.

Fast forward three years. She's grown a lot, and the Millers have had a young son, one with a mix of complicated medical problems which require essentially the whole family to move into the hospital for weeks at a time. Emma's left alone too much and the Millers, who love her, decide to find a family that can spend more time with her.

Enter us.

My husband didn't grow up with pets. (He's from China; they don't do that.) Years ago, as a clueless but enthusiastic young family, we adopted a puppy. When we had a toddler. The day after we moved into our new house. It wasn't smart. He was, I believe, the best-natured dog in the world; he'd let kids do literally anything to him. And he would have burst his bladder rather than have an accident in the house. But that was pretty much the extent of his training; we had neither the time nor the skill to do more, and he thought "come" was the name of that great game where he ran headlong down the street while his family chased him.

My husband, Matt, never really recovered from having his house and clothes puppy-wrecked. "No more dogs," he said.

Fast forward a few years. If there was ever a little boy in the world who wanted, and needed, a dog, it was our youngest. All of the kids worked on Matt. Helen Brenna, bless her, let us dogsit her dog Ebby, AKA the best dog in the world, for a week, and he allowed as how she was pretty fun to have around.

This winter was a difficult for one for us. Our oldest two children were battling serious illnesses. We needed something to cheer us up. An adult dog, I told my husband. It could work. The kids would love it.

I found an ad for Emma by sheerest chance, and something about it struck me. We went to visit. Too big, I thought immediately. (She was 98 pounds.) But she barely barked when we came to the door, and when I sat down on the floor, she flopped right down next to me and stayed there. She was obviously mostly black lab; what else was anyone's guess, though Newfoundland, Rottweiller, and German Shepherd seem to be the most frequent. (The vet merely shrugged at my question and said: "well, certainly nothing ugly!")

Okay, my husband said. She doesn't jump, and she doesn't chew, so this could work. We had to go through a couple of interviews, two home visits to get her. There were other families interested. But there was a connection between us and the Millers; we both understood what it was like to have gravely ill children, and his father had fought lymphoma ten years ago, as one of our sons was doing.

So Emma came to live with us in March, and she's been the brightest spot in a very long winter. It is so much EASIER than a puppy! She's not perfect, of course. She hadn't much practice on a leash, and we're still working on that. "Come," which she responds to 90% of the time, gets quickly ignored if there's a duck or deer in her sights.

But those are minor points in what has been a truly wonderful experience.

She curled up with my son when his treatments made him feel crappy. She chases away the nightmares that plague my youngest. She is mellow in the house but thrilled when it's walk time - if we're not speedy enough getting ready, she tries to put the leash on herself.

We live in a great walking area, threaded with miles of paths that wind through forest and meadows, alone wetlands and small lakes. We rarely used them. I diligently avoid cardio of any kind.

But Emma and I walk every morning. It's become my sanity; it gets me out there, in the fresh air, and moving. I'm enjoying watching the land change, the flowers that seem to bloom and disappear overnight. We've seen a bald eagle, a wild turkey, more deer than I can count. Once, the frogs were so loud in the marsh you had to shout to be heard. Emma's lost ten pounds with the additional exercise. I, who have walked 95% of those miles with her, have not lost an ounce. But I've gained a lot.

Once, on a particularly gorgeous evening, my husband and I and our youngest were walking down by the lake, watching Emma paddle after a tennis ball. "You know," my husband said, "if we hadn't gotten Emma, we wouldn't be out here. We'd be home, with the kid in the basement playing games, and you and I in separate rooms trying to get some work or other done.

"She's the best thing we ever did."

He insists, despite our son's teasing, that he doesn't love Emma. He just likes her a lot. But when he doesn't think anybody's listening, he calls her "honey."

Rosemary Heim's Cat Cocoa

Here's another guest author and a picture of one of her beautiful cats. Rosemary Heim is one of my critique buddies and the first one in the group to get published! She writes for Silhouette Intimate Moments and is currently working on a psychic suspense story.

Rosemary says, "This is Cocoa who, like most cats, can't resist sitting in any box that might be available. He's also the cuddliest cat ever, altho he does tend to favor Will. Which is good, since he keeps Will company while I'm busy writing. Cocoa and his sister, Puff, were role models for Ansel, the heroine's cat in my first book."

Rosemary actually has four cats all from the family farm in southeastern Minnesota. You can visit her and catch up on all her latest happenings at Rosemary's News.

weekend cuteness

In a zoo in California, a mother tiger gave birth to a rare set of triplet tiger cubs.

Unfortunately, due to complications in the pregnancy, the cubs were born pre-maturely and due to their tiny size, they died shortly after
birth. The mother tiger, after recovering from the delivery, suddenly started to decline in health, although physically she was fine.

The veterinarians felt that the loss of Her litter had caused the tigress to fall into a depression.The doctors decided that if the tigress could surrogate another mother's cubs, perhaps she would improve.
After checking with many other zoos across the country, the depressing news was that there were no tiger cubs of the right age to introduce
to the mourning mother.

The veterinarians decided to try something that had never been tried in a zoo environment. Sometimes a mother of one species will take on
the care of a different species. The only "orphans" that could be found quickly, were a litter of wiener pigs.

but it's a dry heat

we're still trying to figure out the beat of this group blog.
what do people want to read?
what will they respond to?
let's just consider this a test post.
if any riders think it's tasteless and want to delete it, i won't be offended.



naked bookseller

writer Lee Goldberg ran into the naked bookseller on his way to ThrillerFest last week in Arizona. This has become one of my all-time favorite photos. Lee has a new Monk book out that's getting great reviews. And yes, naked bookseller is holding one of lee's books.

lee goldberg







another not-so-naked man: