I'm a time traveling nostalgic fool

Think time travel is tough? Nah. We all do it, practically every day.

I've just come back from the early 1970s, Xmas eve, dressed in my flannel footie jammies, my long brown hair frazzled with excitement, as I open my packages. The shag carpet is green and long (you could lose a small kitten in it, I'm sure). The furniture is Early American, and the picture window drapes are heavy olive-green numbers backed with a strange rubbery substance to keep out light. My little brother is in the picture somewhere, but he's important only in that he stays out of my path to the presents. In the corner of the living room is the red brick cardboard fireplace that my dad would assemble every Xmas season for us to pin our stockings on, in hopes Santa would fill them with the usual nuts, hard candies, and hopefully a few small toys.

So how did I travel backward thirty years? I've just finished off a sugar cookie my son made last night. The taste of a sugar cookie instantly places me in my childhood home, the scent of vanilla, sugar and flour filling the air, and always it's Xmas and Elvis Presley is singing about a white one, because that's when Mom dragged out the dozens of cookie cutters and rolling pin and worked all day to make treats for us.

If I nibble a square of rhubarb, I'm magically transported to my Grandma's garden, sitting on a blanket next to my brother. I've been given the cup of sugar to hold, while grandma hacks off a few huge stalks of rhubarb and hands them to us. We dip the juicy thick end in the sugar and savor. We never cut of the big leafy end; that's the cool part--the trio of us, sitting there with our rhubarb cigars, roasting in the summer sun.

Hamburger invariably transports me back to 1973 (I'm 8) and the evening news is playing in the living room as I stare at a huge chunk of uncrumbled, tough, cold hamburger (a remnant of the lasagna my mother cooked. I can't fathom eating that chunk, so utterly solid and not mixed with anything, so it is literally a slab of cow. It is HUGE. My mother (in a rare stubborn streak) insists I not leave the table until I clean my plate. I sit for over an hour, and I'm sure I hear M*A*S*H playing in the other room (which I love) but I cannot choke it down. I am hot and clammy at the same time. My throat has shut off. I Can Not Do It. I go to bed immediately that night, the hamburger chunk sitting somewhere in the garbage can (where it belongs) To this day hamburger disturbs me. Just ask my kids, whom I always summon to assist should I need to fry hamburger for a recipe. And please, chop it in tiny bits. When they've finished, I have to grab a fork and go at the cooked crumbles myself, ensuring they are microscopic. (And no, it is NOT crumbled finely enough in this pic. Somebody get the fork!) Yikes! Talk about a traumatic trip! Back to the present, please!

I've got thousands of pleasant taste travels. The icey Mr. Freeze treats place me on a bicycle, my 10 yr old legs peddling through the neighborhood, happy as a cat with cream. Roast beef and dumplings transport me to my grandma's kitchen, stirring with a stew of relatives, the windows fogged because grandma has been cooking all morning for a big family event. Vanilla ice cream will now place me in a trendy little restaurant across from the Trocadero in Paris where I tasted the most divine ice cream ever only this year. SweetTarts bring me back to my first kiss...


Oh no, I don't kiss and tell!

So what's your favorite taste travel? Are there some foods that always bring you to the same place, or can they change locations?
Michele

The Burning Question

posted by Helen


Do you have any emotional attachments to objects? Cars, t-shirts with holes in them, favorite collanders? Come on everyone. Let's hear it!

An Inteview with Kathleen Eagle

Posted by Helen

Kathleen Eagle’s newest release, RIDE A PAINTED PONY, is a tender story of a strong, quiet man protecting, caring for, and, ultimately, falling in love with a woman who gives as good as she gets. Part suspense and all romance, Nick Red Shield and Lauren Davis’s story will undoubtedly satisfy long-time fans and intrigue new ones.

I've asked her a few questions to get the ball rolling.

Helen: Kathy, as I read RAPP, something that kept hitting me is that I could never write this book. I know so little about the key ingredients to your story, and yet I found it so interesting. Was there one particular seed that started it all?

Kathleen: Two years ago we bought a couple of horses from a breeder in Oregon, and we had them trailered to Minnesota by a guy who makes his living hauling horses. What a great sideline for an Indian cowboy, I thought. It would put a character on the road a lot, allow some flexibility, provide involvement with horses and horse people, and give him an income. Now he’s in a position to pursue a dream.

Once I saw him behind the wheel of a dually pickup hitched to an 8-horse rig, the first scene of RIDE A PAINTED PONY played out in my head. He runs into a woman in jeopardy. I didn’t know who she was or what she was doing on the road when I plunged into that first chapter, and that sense of mystery about her served me well.

So I started with two characters—the Indian cowboy, whom I know at least somewhat, and the mystery woman—a horse-hauling business and a roadside encounter. I didn’t have much of a plot. Recently I went through the proposal and highlighted in red the elements that I eventually ditched. Close to half the proposal is red.

Helen: I’m guessing horses had to be one story element that was there from start to finish, and you obviously know A LOT about one of my aforementioned deficient areas. Tell us about how you came to love horses.

Kathleen: The first time I laid eyes on my husband, he was breaking a horse. It was the summer between my junior and senior year in college, and I had been taking riding lessons since I was a freshman. I was never very good at it, but I was determined. At the end of the summer I bought that horse from Clyde, left it with him in South Dakota, returned to Massachusetts to finish school. It was the classic “I got the horse and you got the saddle.”

We’ve had horses ever since. We have a gorgeous Paint stud (this is JJ on the right) and a few mares pastured with our nephew in South Dakota, exactly where I set the story.

Horses are simply incredible animals, and their relationship to human beings is unique. Inspirational on so many levels.

Helen: So did you have to do much research for this book?

Kathleen: I went “on location” several times early in the writing to refresh my senses on the prairie. I read a couple of memoirs about horse racing, and I did a lot of online research. “Indian Country Today” is a resource I’ve used for years that’s now online. It’s amazing how the Internet helps with those pesky details that pop up all the time, like What’s the racing schedule in SD? Is such-and-such a regulation different in OK?

Helen: RAPP has quite a strong suspense element, but that’s not your usual kind of story. How did that come about?

Kathleen: I’ve done a little suspense—most recently NIGHT FALLS LIKE SILK, the sequel to THE NIGHT REMEMBERS. In both of those books I was drawn to a mystical kind of suspense. RIDE A PAINTED PONY has a more—what?—straightforward suspense thread.

I started with a mystery woman. Figuring out who she was and why she was stranded on a lonely roadside led me to a bad guy, and the bad guy led to illegal activity. Ergo, suspense.

But I always start with characters and an interesting situation and go from there. I sometimes wish I could plot first. It would have been so much easier if I’d known more about Lauren’s nemesis to begin with. The first thing I realized about her was what she’d lost, and therefore what drove her, and that was a powerful foundation for building her story. But I built Nick from back to front, while Lauren was created from front to back, if that makes sense.

Helen: Yeah, that makes total sense. I’m curious, though, was there anything you found different about writing suspense? Did you like writing it?

Kathleen: Once the plot elements start clicking, the way is clear. I was at least 2/3 into the book and still missing something. What I’d had in mind for the root of the problem—the nature of the crime, and therefore the resolution—just wasn’t working. I kept poking around and finally found some news stories that gave me what I needed. I doubt this is the way most suspense writers work. I think they plot first. My stories are primarily about relationships, and RIDE A PAINTED PONY is no exception. I really do like the suspense element, though. It helps with pacing and plotting.

Helen: Gotcha. The adventure elements in my stories help too with pacing and plotting. I think it’s harder, in some respects, to write a straight romance. Characters are key, and your characters are so vivid, primary and secondary. Did this story start with Lauren or Nick, or did they both evolve at the same time?

Kathleen: I almost always start with the hero. Just from a practical standpoint, most of my readers are women, and don’t we just love getting into men’s heads? Our readers want to be able to identify with the heroine and fall in love with the hero. Mind you, this is a justification applied after the fact. The hero generally comes to me first.

Helen: And you write heroes so well, Kathy. I got a big kick out of Nick. Kept expecting to bump into him at the grocery store, or something, he seemed so real to me. Has writing the male POV always been a strong suit of yours or is it something you’ve honed over the years?

Kathleen: This is going to sound sexist, but I think female writers write better male characters than male writers do female characters. I know, it’s nervy to generalize, but I’ve lived long enough to earn the nervy stripes, and that’s my nervy opinion.

Inspiration for Nick. In Indian Country, the term “big Indian” has nothing to do with size. This is the guy who keeps to himself, doesn’t talk much, very stoic or “bucky.” That’s how I saw Nick. He’s the wounded warrior. I love a good tortured hero. The source of Nick’s pain was inspired by one of my former students, who survived a terrible oilrig fire. My characters are always grounded in reality somehow, but the more you write, the more you try to challenge yourself to cover new ground without losing whatever it is you do that appeals to readers. The trick is to figure out just what that is.

Helen: So what’s next?

Kathleen: Dillon Black’s story, and I think the working title is a go. It’s called MYSTIC HORSEMAN.

Helen: Dillon’s a great character. Had you planned on writing his story from the very beginning of RAPP, or did that just happen?

Kathleen: I didn’t. Basically, I planned Dillon as a foil for Nick. Dillon is charming, gregarious, seems very easy-going, fiercely loyal to Nick. The first inkling I had that I might want to follow Dillon into his own book was the revelation that Dillon had burned his own house down. What was that about? Well, I’m finding that out right now. MYSTIC HORSEMAN is more of a relationship book. And, man, these are some interesting relationships.

Helen: RIDE A PAINTED PONY will be on the shelves December 2006. Have more questions for Kathleen? Ask away. She’s all yours.

Miss America?

So this was my daughter, Tara, at age 12 or so. As you can see, she used to be a little girl with chopped off overalls and hair that…well…okay, usually her hair didn’t stick straight out of her head like this. But the point is, several years have passed since she used to enjoy mud fights with her brothers and now she’s a senior in high school. Which means she’ll be leaving soon and my life will end. But that’s another blog. For now let me just say that she’s an amazing student and we’ve been looking at colleges. It was during a visit to a nearby university that we discovered private institutions are ridiculously expensive (surprise!). On our way home a few hours later, while we were moping about the cost of higher education, Tara mentioned that Miss America awards 45 million dollars in scholarships per year.

After squealing to a halt in front of the nearest shopping mall, we panted into the evening wear department and demanded a gown fit for…well…Miss America.

Sometime later we realized that the powers that be probably aren’t just going to hand over the 45 mill. Apparently it’s trickier than that. It seems that contestants are expected to begin at a somewhat lower level--like Miss Nowheresville (which, luckily, is where we live). But my little pigtailed daughter has decided to give it a try. Which didn’t really surprise me since Tara has always been up for a challenge.

It’s the reaction of other people that has been really fascinating. While some, like myself, think this will be just a fun little experience where she can dress like a princess and saw out Fur Elise on her violin, others act as if we’re about to sell her soul to Satan. Thus far I haven’t gotten a single glimpse of our horned nemesis, but maybe he makes an appearance later on…during the swimsuit competition or something. Anyway, I’ll let you, but I’m curious…what do you all think? Is this my dumbest idea ever--which, granted would be pretty dumb? Are pageants an antiquated idea whose time has long since passed or do they possess a bit of merit? Any wisdom would be much appreciated.

Kathleen On Sweet November

Again I say, ain't we sweet? And (doing the birthday dance) it's my birthday...got my party...had some girltalk...it's my birthday...

(L to R) Pamela Bauer (aka Pammie), Ana Seymour (aka Mary or Sister Mary Louise), Kathleen Eagle (aka Kathy or Sister Mary Kathleen) and Judy Baer (Judy Judy Judy). This is 4/5 of a group of fast friends aka Prairie Writers' Guild. We're missing Sandy Huseby, who's the only non-Twin Cities member (waving at Sandy in Fargo!)

As I mentioned under Betina's post, I'm a Scorpio. November 8. I was lucky enough this year to do lunch 3 times with 3 different girls' groups, and this is the ... not the oldest ... no ... the longest standing. Yes, that's it. PWG goes back about, oh, 20 years. Anybody remember the scene in the final episode of "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" when the main characters shared a group hug in the newsroom and no-sentimentality-please Mr. Grant says "I cherish you people"? That says it for me about PWG.

Wanted to mention two movies we saw recently. First, BOBBY. Saw it on Thanksgiving, and it blew me away. Okay, first, the Thanksgiving matinee was a growing up tradition, and I haven't done it in years. We used to watch the Macy's parade, have dinner, and then divide into 2 groups--football watchers and movie goers. Hard to do that when you're the cook, but this year we did. I wanted to see BOBBY on release day, so hubby and I planned it in. I was a sophomore in college when Bobby was assassinated, and I could identify with so many of the characters, each one in a different way. You have to see it...for the structure, if nothing else. It's an ensemble cast, collection of connected vignettes, but (unlike, imo, "Crash") IT WORKS BEAUTIFULLY, thanks to what I thought was a masterful script. Suffice it to say, I was not the only one bawling at the end. (No, not hubby. He just doesn't choke up at movies. Somebody has to drive home.)

The other movie that blew me away recently--and I think both films speak volumes in today's world--is FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS. That was my birthday movie, and, yes, there's some war gore in it. But the very title hits home with me. My dad was a WWII vet and a career Air Force pilot. I have his burial flag in a flag frame IN MY LIVING ROOM. And I've actually been to Iwo Jima. Long story short, I was about 10 (like, a mere dozen years after the battle) when we were stationed on Guam, went to Japan for RnR, lost an engine on the MATS plane, emergency landing on Iwo. I have been to that mountaintop and remember it well. But about the film...again, beautifully written and directed. It's about the 3 young men who survived the battle and what that did to them, especially when they were thrust into the limelight as heroes. The most poignant story, for me, is that of Ira Hayes (left in B&W), and the actor who played him should be nominated for something. Adam Beach (left, center)also in "Code Talkers") is just terrific in this movie. Plus, he's just as cute as can be. And he reminds me of another really cute Indian guy who once did the soldier's role.

I'll let you guess. Who's the guy in the third photo?

Has anyone seen FLAGS OF OUR FATHERS or BOBBY? What did you think? Any recommendations for holiday movie-goers?

The Burning Question

How do you like your men?

Wet?




















Or dry?


















Wet?


















Or dry?







Wet?


















Or dry?

















Wet?

















Or dry?

Celebrations -- More Than Just Good Eats?

Betina here. That time of year again.
Birthdays, birthdays, birthdays.

I don’t know how you celebrate in your family, group, clan, or pride, but in the Krahn-World annual celebrations of birth remembrance involve food. Cake, yeah, sure. But more often, dinner out at the honoree’s choice of restaurant. My kids grew up thinking turning older meant being able to call the shots one day a year. And eating really, really well.

Add to that the fact that most of our birthdays fall in a chain in November, just before the holidays, and you understand why non-stop dining out and celebrating always caused a ten pound weight gain.

Not, however, this year. This year, I had to send cards and checks in the mail for the kids to celebrate at a distance and my own birthday. . . well, suffice it to say, everybody I live with and around is on Adkins, Southbeach, or a maniacal Deprivation Diet. No cake within miles. And going out to eat meant a naked salad, steak, no baked potatoes, no bread, and a metric-ton of broccoli. Needless to say, I had to find another way to make myself feel as if I’ve celebrated. Booze is out. Decadent spending spree is out. (There are the holiday sprees yet to come and yet to pay for!) Spas are getting pricier and I wasn’t thrilled with the services I had last time.


So? I heated up the pool to an appallingly warm extent and plunged in to soak and swim for two solid hours. I was the only dumpling in a rather dilute Wan Ton Soup. But I felt special and really treated. . . especially when my sister came over the next day and we repeated the indulgence, albeit for a shorter time.

Then I got out a special candle I’d been saving and made a salad from a recipe I’d been meaning to try. We had a lovely, low-carb dinner and capped it off with by watching a new DVD and eating a Slim-A-Bear ice cream sandwich.

I feel so virtuous, it’s nauseating.

But I’ve lost seven pounds now– Rex has lost more than three times that– and we’re both feeling better than we have in three years. I had to think about different ways to celebrate and to mark special times. In the future, I’m going to think about it even more. There are some traditions– like celebratory gluttony-- that, even though pleasurable, should probably drop by the wayside. And what do we replace them with?

What about you? What are your family rituals for birthdays? What other ways do you celebrate? How about other little “rituals” your and yours do for each other to mark the passing of time and accomplishment?

Bond, James Bond

Candace says ~

My DH and I went to see the new Bond movie Friday night. It’s the first one in a long time that I’ve paid money to see in a theater (mostly I wait until they hit Blockbuster) but the reviews said it was different, so…

I really like this Bond. He’s not just a good-looking, double-entendre quipping, licensed-to-kill robot. Yes, he’s good looking. Man, is he good looking! That body! Yowza!! And those blue, blue, incredibly blue eyes! (I tried to post pictures but it isn't working so you'll just have to take my word for it. Or go see the movie for yourself.) And, yes, he kills (a lot). But—

He’s intense, physical, and heart-rendingly vulnerable, all at the same time. We see what it cost him to be so good at what he does. So, while there were a lot of impossible physical stunts and he gets the living sh*t beat out of him any number of times and still pops right back up (just like Superman, albeit a gorgeously battered Superman) for more, he is, when it comes down to it, emotionally defenseless. When he falls, he falls hard. “All that’s left of me is yours,” he says, “Is it enough?”

Another good thing; it was not so gimmicky as Bond movies have become lately. No pens that turn into automatic weapons or rocket launchers coming out of the exhaust pipe on the car. None of those heavy-handed double-entendres. And, yes, there were some holes in the plot (mostly in the explanation of the Bond girl's motivation) but only the kind I thought about after the movie was over, not during it, so they didn’t interfere with my enjoyment. And—did I mention?—his eyes are incredibly blue?

In short, I think this Bond is a perfect romantic hero. An unpolished Alpha male. Intensely masculine. Physically and mentally tough. Brutal, when necessary, but capable of tenderness. And starving for love. What do y’all think?

Good Time, Good Friends--Kathleen Says "Thanks. I Needed That."

Ain't we sweet? (L to R, Michele Hauf, Kathleen Eagle, Lois Greiman) Last Saturday the three of us tested the waters at the Deep Valley Book Fair in Mankato, MN. The water was warm and friendly and fine.

We write to sell. I get the writing part, but the selling is so hard for me. We made plans to do the Mankato book fair months ago, back when the date was so far into the future that it posed no threat. "Sure, I can do that." But as the day approaches and I face the prospect of selling my wares, pitching my babies as book lovers browse the displays, doubt creeps in. What was I thinking? I cannot do this.

The fact that I've been doing it for years doesn't make a whit of difference. I'm not a salesman. But frankly, I needed this outing. It was good for me. To paraphrase the Bard, the world has been too much with me of late, and I've found myself withdrawing too much. Yes, I'm basically an introvert, but I've managed to push myself out there fairly successfully over the last, oh, 20-plus years. Maybe more if you count the teaching years. Come to think of it, I was pushing myself out there back then as well. But lately I've cocooned. Cowered, really. Left undone those things which I ought to have done (another paraphrase, the next line being "and there is no health in us." Recognize it, anyone?) because of that world thing. When coming out seems impossible, that's probably a sign that it's long past time. Don't think about it. Just do it. Lois volunteered to drive, so I didn't have that excuse. (I hate driving.)

But I felt guilty about not carrying my weight, so I volunteered to moderate the Fiction Writers' panel. (The guy sitting behind me in the cute beret wrote a book called The Cellini Masterpiece. I introduced him, but do you think I can remember his name? I was on autopilot.)


Fortunately, my companions were on their game. Not only did Michele and Lois offer the benefit of their experience (taken together we 3 have over 50 years of published writer expertise) but they had the presence of mind to display their books, front and center. Remember, we write to sell.

And speaking of inspirational, Lois, you da one. Friendly, outgoing, cute as can be, Lois did our table proud by getting out there, offering promo material, convincing people that we really are approachable. Thanks be to Lois!

And thanks be to the people who put on the Deep Valley Book Fair. I was inspired by the organizers. This was one of the best events of its kind that I've been to--and I've been to many many many of them. I was especially inspired by the volunteers, most of them teenagers, who visited the table often to see whether we needed anything. So cool! And the many fair goers who brought their enthusiasm to the table. Readers who like our work and ask for more are so precious to us, and it's not all about about selling. It's about having the courage to write the next one. Thanks, Mankato! Man, I really needed that.

The publishing world is going through lots of changes these days, and I guess I don't do change well. Put that together with family stuff and other stuff, and a guy gets to feeling snowed under. And it hasn't even snowed here yet! A day spent with good friends is the best kind of anti depressant. Worth pushing yourself out of the house for.

Isolation is a necessary part of the writing sometimes. Does anyone else find herself slipping into the staying away habit? How do you deal with it?

Inspiration!

What inspires you? As writers, that’s one of our most frequently asked questions. In fact, I just attended a book fair with Kathy E. and Michele H. and that was one of the queries posed. What inspires you? How do you come up with your ideas? I answer like I always answer--inspiration is everywhere.

Although, I have to admit, these pictures are more inspiring than most things for me. I mean…Hugh Jackman! Or cheese cake! Or fresians! Or better yet, Hugh Jackman eating cheese cake on a fresian. Think about it. Inspiration off the charts!

But life hands us all kinds of other great stuff too--sunsets, children, lightning storms. How can these things fail to inspire us? How can we keep the stories at bay?

The hard part, the part that makes me sit in my chair day after day when I want to be out enjoying the sunsets and laughter and lightning (I don’t know what it is about electrical storms--they draw me like well…like cheese cake.) is taking that inspiration, that spark of an idea, and molding it into something beautiful.

The idea stage is the honeymoon, that sweet moment in time when everything is magical. It’s not until somewhere around the middle of the book that I usually start to realize that my story is inane, boring, and SO not funny at all. That’s when the grueling work begins.

But that doesn’t mean inspiration is laying low and taking a break. Hardly that. It seems like it’s during those middle of the book battles that inspiration really starts whispering in my ear, “Hey, why are you worrying about that lame-brain idea? I’ve got something better, funnier, sexier, cleverer.” And here I didn’t even know cleverer was a word. Damn that inspiration is sneaky.

However, it’s also indispensable. I know that even in the midst of drudgery. I don’t care how many middle of the books I hammer my way through, inspiration is desperately needed. And when Hugh Jackman in nothing but a towel doesn’t give me a lift, buy me some daisies and write a nice eulogy, cuz folks, I’m gone.

The Burning Question

What do you do when your editor or publisher has requested a certain plot element, you write the story with that requested element, but it simply doesn't work? Do you leave it in and turn in an inferior story? Or do you remove it knowing the book could now be turned down?

Helen's Manuscript Becomes a Book!

Imagine …

A baby without a diaper.
Turkey but no dressing.
PB without the J.
A warm beer.
A cat that can’t meow.
A book without a cover.

A book without … ack!

That’s what I’ve felt like for a large part of the past several months as I signed contracts on the sale of my first book, finished edits, filled out art facts sheets and patiently waited for my manuscript to turn into a book.

Finally, finally, it feels closer than it’s ever been because … I have a cover!
I’m not sure I can explain what it felt like to look at the jpg attachment and see that woman’s face looking back at me. Expectant, surreal, exciting, and, certainly, it took several minutes to register …

As I’m grinning …

“That’s ANNIE, my heroine.”
“She’s adorable.”
“Would you look at that smile?”
“And the cute stripey stop, her nice shoulder, the way she’s standing.”
“They put shorts on her. Awesome. Fits the story.”
“What a cool waterfall.”
“Look at the way it’s flowing.”
“The colors. So vibrant. They pop.”
“I love this cover!”
“The yellow, the blues, the greens, the red—it—”
“Red?”
“What?”
Smile disappearing.
“Who’s the guy?”
Long pause.
“Who IS that guy?”
“That’s not Jake.”
“They got the long part, but Jake’s hair is black. Curly.”
“Jake has a five o’clock shadow.
“Jake looks like a pirate.”
“Jake would NEVER wear red.”
“He—”
“Oh, look at the title.”
Smile is back.
“LOOK at my name!”
“My name is on a book cover!”
“This is sooo cool.”
"MY name is on a book cover!”

So whaddya think of my cover? Like, dislike? Love, hate? Either way, I’d like to hear what people will think when seeing it on the shelf. Is this cover a plus or a minus?

Debra - Turkey Schmurkey

First let me say I'm reeling. Appalled. Horrified.

For years, I've been happily sending my husband out to fry a turkey for the holidays. Sounded a little odd when he first suggested one, but he assured me that the bird would be moist and have a fabulous crisp skin. Sure enough! It did! There was much cheering all around and we retired the roasting pan. My hubby does the cooking and I'm very happy with that whole dynamic. Or I was.

Today I've watched a "Good Eats" program (all about frying turkey) with Alton Brown, FootNetwork guru. After fifteen solid minutes of...

"This is dangerous."
"Don't do this."
"Whatever you do don't do this." (Firemen were standing by.)
"Check that."
"Don't get that equipment."
"Especially don't get this stand."
"Make sure you don't set up here, here, here or here."
"Not there either."
"Wrap your propane hose in aluminum foil."
"Unless you want to become Johnny the human torch, don't do this."

There was more, but you get the point. I've been trying to kill my husband for years.

On the bright side, I know how to tell how much gas is left in a propane tank. His response to my very calm and serious suggestion that maybe we shouldn't fry turkeys anymore was...
"Honey! Food is always better when there's danger involved! I've probably broken every one of Alton's rules at least once, some of 'em more than that. But, the good news is, I see new turkey frying gear in my future."

He rates recipes based on their danger quotient? When did cooking become a contact or adventure sport? For those of you who don't understand my concern, keep in mind that this man once set our kitchen on fire while cooking. A real fire. Complete with firemen and axes for chopping into walls.

Men are from Mars; we all know that. And I used to be thrilled that my Martian cooked. Now, I confess to being a tiny bit worried. And I'm checking prices on light-weight abestos suits in a men's XL.

Do the men in your life enjoy danger cooking? Are they passing this tradition on to their sons? How do we stop them or do we just buy them the safest gear available and tell 'em to go for it?

Seven Days Out...

Ah heck! I have shirked my duties. That makes me a shirker. (Yeah, I looked it up. shirker: a person who evades work, duty, responsibilty, etc.) But seriously I wasn't trying to evade today's post regarding what you all can expect for the rest of the week, it just slipped my mind. But I promised Helen I'd post, so here I am.

Only. Oh heck, again. I don't have the schedule of who is blogging on what day this week, so let me just say it's going to be another rousing week with scintillating discussion and delicious conversation. We'll even toss in a Burning Question on Wednesday for those who Need To Know.

And an update regarding three riders' trip this Saturday to the Deep Valley book festival. We didn't kill each other after almost 14 hours together. In fact, we all survived the looooong event by talking, gabbing, doing some truly stunning sales-work, and scarfing down pizza, cookies, strawberry Frooties, chocolate, soup, and chicken McNuggets. All in all, the event was a success!

M

Susie wonders what to read

I'm in a bit of a reading slump. This doesn't happen to me often - if I read a couple of books in a row that don't give me that zing, I can usually fix it by reading another genre. And I'm a pretty wide reader; I like mysteries, I like scientific thrillers, I like adventure. I'm not wild about sagas, and I simply cannot do horror. (I'm still prone to nightmares.)

A must, though: a positive ending. I don't need everything tied up in a neat little romance bow, but I do like to feel hopeful, that things are going in the right direction. I just read a book that I thought I would like a lot, but at the end, just when things were looking up for the heroine, another tragedy was thrown her way. Realistic, perhaps, but not very entertaining. I get enough of that in real life, thank you very much.

The last books I really enjoyed were the MONKEEWRENCH mysteries, by a local writing team. (A mother and daughter). I didn't like the third one quite as much as the first two, and it takes some effort to keep all the characters straight. But the characters are really interesting, the dialogue is hilarious and very real-sounding, and it's great fun to recognize my hometown. The descriptions of Minneapolis/St. Paul and northern Wisconsin are spot on.

But I've been stuck ever since. The obvious solution would be to read Connie Brockway's HOT DISH, which would be perfect, except I already read it in galley form. (Which, at the time, seemed like a bonus. But now I don't get to read it now, when I need a laugh!)

Suggestions, please? What have you read lately that you just really enjoyed. I'm not looking to be enlightened; I just want to have fun.

Susie

Riding With The Top Up

Posted by Michele

On Saturday, three of us (me, Lois and Kathleen) are headed out on a road trip to the Deep Valley Book Festival. We'll be riding with the top up, of course, because while it was 72 degrees here on Wednesday, the weatherman promises snow and 30s come the weekend. The event is about a 2 1/2 hour ride from here, and I"ve already claimed the front seat (did you hear that Kathleen?), cause being in the back is not good for my unstable brain that gets dizzied by a simple dancer's spin on solid ground. :-)

So I'm trying to gather things I need for the trip. The show is focused on Minnesota authors, and we each get a booth to show off our wares. The three of us get one booth, and I suspect (from reading the list of attending authors) we may be a bit of a surprise to the attendees with our covers that feature half-naked men and titles that suggest this ain't your usual kiddie books and cozy mysteries, or even nonfiction military reads. Watch out Deep Valley, here we come!

Now, I need supplies to survive a road trip, no matter the length. First, that front seat is important because I do get sick in the back. Then, I think I need to tote the iPod along. What if the driver (Lois) prefers country? What if we get bored of chatting after that first hour? (Unlikely). But I'll bring it, because the day doesn't end until the festival closes at 9pm (starts at 10 am, with us piling into the car at 7). Long day; must have music.

I must pack snacks as well. The town we're going to is a small midwest site. Do they have snacks there? Healthy Luna bars and bottled water and the ever-important chocolate? I'd better bring double, in case the other two forget their own. And reading material. Not for in the car, makes me dizzy, but for the festival when I'm tired of putting on my smiling author face and nodding for the thousandth time that 'yes, i did write that'. I suspect I'll need a few breaks just to unwind and breathe. I'll tote along a research book that needs important points highlighted.

Music, snacks, books, let's see...what else do I need? What do you need to survive a road trip? A long day spent at a show where you're the one behind the booth? Tell me!

The day will be a long one, but I suspect, quite fun, considering the three of us get along well. But will we even want to look at one another after hour nine? :-) I'll report back!
M

The Burning Question

What factors should a writer consider in deciding whether or not to accept an offer from a publisher?

When you make decisions on offers/contracts, do you think more about the money offered or about intangibles like where they can place you on their list, publicity and marketing plans, how soon they can put your book out? What other factors contribute to your decision to take or reject an offer?

Betina learns Contemporary Research

As a career-long historical writer, I long-ago made peace with the fact of having to research like mad, only to find that-- after the book is published-- I will still discover a few things that would change something about the story if I were still writing it. This doesn't mean my research was flawed or inadequate; it just means that some time or other you have to quit researching and writed the damned book. And since I love to research and learn new things, I always considered research a joy, not a hardship.

So, in starting to work on contemporary stories, I've discovered that a slightly different approach to research is required. And living in contemporary times doesn't mean you know everything there is to know about your home town or the processes of life and commerce that go on around you every day. For instance. . .
Do you know where hungry people go to get food in your area? How they get "approved" for food bank access? Where homeless can find a bed for a night or more and what hoops they have to jump through to get into a shelter? I had general ideas, but no specifics at all, especially after moving to Florida. Turns out, it's a whole different system down here.

Do you know where you can go to buy street drugs in your hometown? Do you know how to tell a fake Rolex or diamond ring? Do you know where high-school kids go to party these days? Do you know which cars are the easiest to steal?

Do you know the dead-giveaways for spotting plainclothes police?

What are the clues you are dealing with a professional criminal mugger vs a nervy amateur?

See, this stuff-- I had no clue on. Nor did I need one. I thought.

Then I started dreaming up contemporary scenarios and synopses. Suddenly I need to know about federal regulations on imported plants and the processing equipment necessary for gene splicing. Suddenly I need to know about the length of flights from Miami to Costa Rica and Belize. . . what kind of currency is spent, what time zone they're in, what price range is reasonable for a hotel. . . what the temperature would be in a given time of year. Aghhhhh!

It gets danged complicated when you try to make it real for readers. And not only do we have to research locations, we have to research life styles.

One of my characters is a monied honey. . . who wears. . . what the heck does she wear?

Brands? Styles? Where does she shop? What would impress her? And can anybody tell me the most sought after brand of mid-sized luxury yacht? (60-75 feet)











Another of my characters is a southern belle. . . what does she call her family members. . . what did she study in school that was different from my more northern upbringing? What kind of odd "southern delicacies" might she crave?

And if one of my characters is a land developer/construction company owner. . . what kinds of deals does he have to make with unions, financiers, investors, and even government agencies and officials? Which is most likely to get him into trouble?

And there are those pesky legal questions. . . like. . . how much trouble I would be in if I have a gun in my glove compartment and get stopped for speeding?

The answer to many of my queries have been found in books. Often small books with big interiors crammed with fascinating facts:
The Grits (Girls Raised In the South) Guide to Life, by Deborah Ford
How to Survive a Robot Uprising, Daniel H. Wilson
Hide Your A$et$ and Disappear, Edmund J. Pankau
Survive in the Jungle, Claire Llewellyn
Life: The Odds (and How to Improve Them), Gregory Baer
The Facts on File Dictionary of Biotechnology and Genetic Engineering,
by Mark Steinberg and Sharon Colsloy
The Action Hero's Handbook, David and Joe Borgenicht

For some questions, books just won't do. I just have to find sombody to ask. Which is another set of skills altogether. I'm learning. People generally love talking about their job or speciality. If approached properly. And of course, there's always evesdropping on public conversations. . .

This whole contemporary world thing. . . a lot more complicated than I thought.

Come on. . . tutor me. What are your favorite ways of getting information and doing the research you need for your contemporary books? Got any good research stories to tell? We're all ears.

Alternative Romance?

I just finished readying the most interesting book. It's called "Phyllida and the Botherhood of the Philander" by Ann Herendeen and is described in the author's note as a bisexual historical romance. It's a Regency and follows all of the conventions of the genre, except the hero is bisexual.

Well, actually, at first he appears to prefer men exclusively but decides he must marry to produce an heir. He's completely upfront with his chosen bride, and she marries him with the full understanding that he will continue to take male lovers. Much to his surprise, he is also sexually attracted to his wife. In one pretty humorous scene he asks the advice of his hetrosexual brother in regards to making love to a woman 'cause his usual approach obviously isn't doing it for her. Anyway, during the course of the story, he falls in love with his wife and he also finds his true male love. And ends up living happily ever after with both of them.

Aside from some fairly graphic language in the sex scenes and the gay angle, it's a pretty standard Regency romance. There's an arrogant, gorgeous, aristocratic hero. A sweet unspoiled heroine. Routs. Balls. Misunderstandings. A little intrigue involving possible French spys and blackmail. And the sex (aside from the language) wasn't all that graphic; if if had been between a man and a woman, it would be considered no more than spicy.

I liked the fact that the gay characters aren't depicted as villians or degenerates, which is a refreshing change. I didn't like (and didn't believe) how easily Phyllida accepted the hero's lifestyle and sexual preferences; she barely batted an eye. Given the fact that "the love that dare not speak it's name" was a hanging offense during that era, I also thought everyone involved was far too open about what I would have thought would be a closely guarded secret. Still, it was interesting.

It's published by Author House (www.authorhouse.com) but I bought it from Amazon based on a review on the Smart Bitches Who Love
Romance website.

Has anyone else read this book? What's your opinion? Are bisexual/gay romances the next hot trend?

Debra -- In Stitches

I'm from the South. We love to turn out polished young women adept in all the important skills. Certainly my mother, a working mom, assumed my sister and I would both go to college and have fabulous careers. But just in case...just in case we had to fall back on our looks and lure a husband to survive, she made sure we had some skills to seal the deal.

By the age of ten, I could cook, knit, crochet, crewel embroider, cross-stitch, hook-latch and set a table for a multi-course dinner party and whip up the party frock to go with that meal. My poor suffering relatives could attest to this. While I was learning these skills, they'd received any number of knitted toboggans, crocheted slippers, embroidered kitchen towels, wall hangings, tiny bathroom rugs and fruitcakes.

I can't believe my mother had the patience and the time to give us those skills. I can't believe she kept a straight face when she looked at those early slipper attempts and said, "Good job, honey. Uncle Mike will love this." The thing is...she meant it and her reverence for handwork stuck with me. Over the years I've knitted sweaters, scarves, shawls and socks (apparently I can only knit things beginning with the letter s), made my maternity clothes, outfitted my son's nursery, made Halloween costumes, Miss Piggy and Kermit stockings, crocheted baby afghans, big afghans, and who knows what else.

What I've realized is that I love making things. I love giving gifts I've made with my own two hands. Over the years the gifts have gotten better. I know this because I have a waiting list now. People put their "orders" in and politely but anxiously inquire as to where they are on the list. Unless it's a quilt. When I began quilting about six years ago, the veneer of politeness disappeared. If I jump anyone ahead on the list there will be open warfare.

I enjoy the fuss and the appreciation, but I do this for me. I'm always happy when I'm settled in my quilt studio or have a needle in my hand. It's a different pleasure from reading but just as necessary to me. I love sorting the fabric collection, planning new quilts, sewing the top, the quilting. All of those things will actually lower my blood pressure.

What's necessary to you? What activity levels you out and perks you up all at the same time? Do you get a charge out of making things? (Boy, do I wish I could make furniture!)

Seven Days Out

Sunday: Deb

Monday: Candace

Tuesday: Betina

Wednesday: The Burning Question

Thursday: Michele

Friday: Susie

A One and a Two and a ...

Posted by Helen

Inspiration comes in many forms. There’s no doubt that one person’s muse can very well be another’s mental block. But there’s something about music, I think, that touches everyone.

I love music. New stuff, old stuff, you name it. Women musicians, eh. I can take em or leave em. I am, however, particularly enthralled with male voices. There’s something about the raspy, soul-filled sound of testosterone that does it for me. Always has. Always will. Give me a man singing passionately about anything and he’ll have me in the palm of his hand.

When I was a teenager I used to hang out in my bedroom for hours at a time listening to the radio or one of the very few albums I owned. I remember laying on the floor with my one and only Bobby Sherman album propped up in front of me, his voice trickling out of my cheap speakers and thinking, “Come and get me, Bobby.” (Not really, but it sounds like something I might have done.) Bread, the Eagles, Bruce Springsteen. I always figured I’d marry a rock star, or at least a man who could sing.

Even so, I can’t listen to most music when I’m writing, the voices and the lyrics stop me cold. But for getting my engine revved or putting me in a creative mood, nothing beats music. In the car, when I’m cooking, cleaning, I love being taken away with music.

Rock, alternative, classic, blues, from Andrea Bocelli to Bruce Springsteen, I listen to it all. My mood drives the tunes.

Off the top of my head, here are some of my current favorite voices.

James Blunt
Eddie Vedder
Dave Matthews
Bruce
Bob Dylan (I know, I know. He doesn’t turn me on, but he can make me cry)
Adam Levine of Maroon 5
Bono

I could go on and on.

What kind of music inspires you? A particular singer, style, a man’s voice, a woman’s voice, what does it for you?