Kathleen Takes On the Fashion Police

First, a word from my sponsor. Mystic Horseman comes out (officially March 4 or Feb 26, depending) as a paperback original right about now. It's the sequel to my last RITA finalist, Ride a Painted Pony, released in paperback in October. You wanted Dillon's story? You got it. Library Journal says of Mystic Horseman : "Poignant, heart-wrenching, heroic, and overflowing with hope, this well-written, family-centered romance takes a few unexpected turns and uses the author's knowledge of Lakota culture to full advantage." You can read a little excerpt on my web site.

Now, let's dish about the Red Carpet. Specifically, the "Fashion Police" and a term that twists my ear into a knot lately: age appropriate.

When I was a kid--back in the days of one TV per family--we had a couple of family viewing traditions (besides "The Wizard of Oz" at Easter and the parade of Christmas Specials): the Miss America Pageant and the Oscars, both of which allowed us to pick favorites and keep score. I remember well the year of "Dr. Zhivago." I thought Julie Christie was the prettiest woman in the world. Fast forward to this year's Oscars and the Fashion Police--it's a cable show, don't know what channel--on 2008 nominee Julie Christie. "Well, she's a legend. She's 1000 years old, and the dress is age appropriate, but it's a bad choice." Okay, I don't know what was with those funny sleeves or gloves or whatever, but I hope I look like this when I'm 1000 years old.

The Fashion Police judged Ruby Dee's choice to be "age appropriate and absolutely elegant." Elegant, absolutely. Stunning, chic, tasteful, classy.

We're also told that 15-year-old Miley Cyrus, aka Hannah Montana, is wearing an "age appropriate" outfit, and the Police love the earrings. I don't know. The neck dips pretty low front and back, and the garnet chandeliers seem a bit much for a 15-year-old. Then we're told that Laura Linney looks like a "school marm." The dress is too plain, the hair dowdy, the jewelry too simple. Huh? This is dowdy?Nicole Kidman's necklace--which took my breath away when she came out on stage--was deemed "way too much. Overdone." No way! She's tall. She walks like a goddess. The simple black dress set the diamonds off beautifully. She appeared to be draped in icicles. You ask me, the Police were jealous.
They gave Marion Cotillard thumbs down for her "fish" dress. I thought it was different and fun and looked like a work of art. Heck, she's French. She's gorgeous. The dress was a fantasy, and it made me smile.

So did Diablo Cody, the former stripper from the Twin Cities who wrote the screenplay for "Juno" and won herself an Oscar. The Fashion Police simply gave her a pass on the dress because she's "being herself." Read: former stripper? I gave her a thumbs up for individuality. (Incidentally, they said you get your stripper name from the name of your pet and the street you grew up on. My stripper name is Wilder Grandview. What's yours?)


How about the men? The police said Viggo looked like an undertaker. But if you saw "Eastern Promises" you know the suit was movie appropriate. I liked it. But I wish he'd lose the beard.

I agree with the cops on Daniel Day Lewis and his lady. Her dress looked silly. His tux was a dud. He wore a gold hoop in each ear. Who did he think he was? Jack Sparrow? Speaking of whom, Jack's alter-ego, Johnny Depp, looked cute. The nerd at the senior prom. He's always a character. And an individual.



The color of Kelly Preston's dress didn't please the Fashion Police, but I thought it was fine. It stood out among all the black and red frocks. But what's with my man John Travolta's helmet hair? He looked like one of the original Ken dolls with the flocked hair. Just ask the Barbie expert. (That would be me.)

Okay, here comes another bias on my part. Calista Flockhart looks healthier than she has in a while, but talk about age inappropriate. I love Harrison Ford, and I hate seeing him look foolish. This photo says it all. He looks like he's suffering through father-daughter weekend. The FP loved this dress on Calista. It looked like a dish rag.

Here are my picks for best of the best: Forest Whitaker and his wife for the classiest couple. Heidi Klum for fab dress on fab femme. (Anyone watching Project Runway? Who's going to win?) Heidi's dress was later auctioned off for charity.

So what did you think of the Red Carpet this year? Who was stylin'? Which dress did you covet? Which jewelry? Whose hair hit the mark and whose hairstylist needs a refresher course? You can view most of the stars in their finery at this Oscar fashion site.

I didn't opine on the Oscar winners here, but did you think anyone got robbed this year?

The ugly, the bad, and the awesome

It's me! (Heh. Almost forgot to blog today.) But I'm here, and I want to talk cover art. Let's let the hair down and get out the claws, shall we? And let's focus on romance novels.

What, about the cover, attracts you to a romance novel?

Are you a clinch person, or do you prefer flowers or scenery?
Do you like bold colors or subdued?
What about the font? Does that grab you in any particular way? Foil or no foil?
Do you prefer just the hero, or just the heroine on the front?
What about those headless shots? Just the bare male chest, or the female back?
And what's up with every other book displaying a tattoo lately?

I ask all this, and really want to know what floats everyone's boats because i just got my July cover. Here it is:


I love this cover. The colors are a little subdued for me, but the hero and heroine are sexy and they work for me. And do you love that butterfly overlay?
But here's me, two seconds after gushing over the cover: Oh, look, the hero has hair on his chest. Uggh! It's my first hairy-chest-guy cover. For the record, he is hairless in the book. Does that bother you when things appear on the cover that aren't in the book? And his hair color in the story is brown with blonde streaks.
Now, the heroine's hair in the story is red. Hmm... That bothers me only a little, but probably because I've come to the point where I just appreciate that the artwork rocks. You know? But how long will it take readers to keep flipping from reading to glaring at the cover?
Lastly, my son just commented that the hero is really rockin' the Elvis sideburns and pompadour (though the shadowing above his head just makes it look that way; I hope). Now I won't be able to think of anyone but The King when I look at this cover.

So talk to me. What do you REALLY ABSOLUTELY love in covers. It'll make you buy a book even without reading what it's about. And what will make you put a book back on the shelf so fast you'll give the guy standing next to you a papercut?

Michele
www.michelehauf.com

Guest - SABRINA JEFFRIES

Today's treat is a chat with New York Times Bestselling novelist Sabrina Jeffries! She's one of the most likeable people I know and from the moment I met her, it was clear we'd been separated at birth.


She's got a brand new book out and (knowing how she worries) I thought we'd invite her over and give her something to do while her book is climbing the charts.


Debra: First, because I think our peeps will love this story... You told me a story about moving into your new house a couple of years ago. I loved it. Could you tell it again?

I love gardenias, so I was delighted when I first moved into our new house to find that we had two gardenia bushes. There was only one problem—they were down the alley where no one, including me, could see them, not even from the street. I couldn’t figure out why anyone would plant such gorgeous bushes in an alley. Clearly, it was done for a reason, because there was also a hummingbird feeder there. Then I realized that all three sat directly outside a window. One particular window.

Let me back up here. One of the things that attracted us to the house was that it had so many handicapped accessible features, including a double shower. Since at the time, we were still having to bathe our autistic teen, we liked the accessibility of the shower. Granted, we didn’t need the features as badly as the previous owners, parents of an full-grown woman with CP who wasn’t mobile and had to be bathed in a sling, but it was still an advantage for us.
I’m sure you’ve figured out where I’m going with this. The window looking out over the alley was the bedroom window of the previous owner’s daughter. She couldn’t leave her bed, so her mother planted those bushes and placed that feeder in the alley for her to see whenever she looked out.


Every time I think of it I cry. And now, whenever I remember to go down that alley and pluck a few gardenias to put in the bowl in my office, I also think of how much that mother loved her daughter, and I cry again. So yes, those are very special bushes to me.

Debra: Congrats on the new book, LET SLEEPING ROGUES LIE. I just checked on Amazon and the book is #344 overall (Yay!) and # 1 in the Historical Regency category and # 3 in Romance Contemporary. I'm not sure how that works! But congrats! Tell us about the yummy hero of this book.

Anthony Dalton is a rakehell, but not a typical one, I hope. He’s sort of a less cynical, more conflicted version of Gavin Byrne from the Royal Brotherhood series. He was relatively content with his devil-may-care life until his applecart got upset when his brother died and he inherited not only an estate and a title, but an adorable niece. The problem is, his brother didn’t designate a guardian, so his aunt and uncle want custody. And they are really bad people. He knows this firsthand, having lived with them for a few years while he was a child. So he’s willing to jump through all sorts of hoops to get custody of his young niece, including ingratiating himself with Mrs. Harris. He figures the court won’t be on his side unless he can prove he’s the better option, and how better to do that than to show that he got his niece into the most sought after school in London? That’s how he ends up agreeing to teach rake lessons.


Debra: I love the concept of "rake lessons." The perfect gift for the reader who has everything. How did you come up with the idea for this book? (Readers can read a chapter on Amazon.) Click for Excerpt.

Believe it or not, the rake lessons were an editorial suggestion. Someone said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if the hero were a rake who offered lessons to the students at the school?” Instead of just blowing it off, I thought, “Actually, it WOULD be cool.”

But it turned out to be more complicated than that. I had to make sure Mrs. Harris didn’t look like an idiot for letting the cock in the henhouse, and I knew any hero worth his salt had better have a great reason for agreeing to such an outrageous suggestion. So that’s why I came up with the idea of the custody battle over his niece. That motivation ended up playing into his own character as a rakehell so well that it became an important theme in the novel—how to deal with the baggage from our childhood.

Then I had to figure out what kind of woman would get under the skin of a guy who had seen and done everything. That’s how Miss Scientist, er, Madeline, was born. I just loved playing with a heroine who saw life as one big science experiment.

Debra: You've done a couple of short stories for BelleBooks and the first one in A DAY IN MOSSY CREEK just had us all crying. In the second story in AT HOME IN MOSSY CREEK, you returned to familiar territory with a romance story. How hard is it to write short after writing long for so much of your career?

Actually, the experiences of writing those two were vastly different. The first one kind of poured out of me, so it wasn’t hard at all. I think it took me a few days. Plus, I got the plot first, which is the linchpin for me. The SECOND story…oh, my God. I worked and worked on it, for three weeks. Part of it was the stricter parameters y’all had set, but most of it was that I’d started with a character and nothing else. For a plot-driven person like me, that’s a recipe for trouble. The thing is, I CAN write short, but I don’t like to, except maybe in novellas. That’s long enough that I can feel comfortable. But trying to squeeze a romance into 30-odd pages is very hard.

Debra: What's your LEAST favorite thing about being a novelist?

The lack of structure in my life. As a person diagnosed with ADD, I need some structure. Without it, I sometimes have trouble carving out time to write (unlike all the other writers I know). The other demands of the business draw me away, especially in the early stages of a book, when the writing is so hard for me.

Debra: What's in your reading pile?

I’m presently reading The Bestseller by Olivia Goldsmith (fabulous book!) AND Joan Didion’s Slouching Toward Bethlehem. Yes, both of them. I’m too ADD to read one book at a time. J Actually, though, I picked up the second one free in a coffeehouse and found it so engrossing that I decided to read the whole thing. It’s very dated, but that in itself makes it fascinating. Aside from those two, I have a stack the size of Mount Everest, including books by several of my fellow goddesses from The Goddess Blogs, assorted other friends’ books, several new history books, Johanna Lindsey’s Angel, random titles I took from conferences because I wanted to try the authors (still haven’t), and several anthologies. I love anthologies because I can get a taste of an author without committing to a full novel. But not everyone writes them well. I try to keep that in mind and not judge too harshly.

Debra: And last, but most importantly, give us a tiny peek and insight into the next book we'll be seeing after LET SLEEPING ROGUES LIE.

Well, the absolute next is a Christmas anthology story that comes out in November. I think it turned out really well. After that comes the novel I just started writing, so I can’t say much, but it’s about Lucy Seton from Let Sleeping Rogues Lie and Rafael Montega, a Spanish magician (not the paranormal kind, but the illusionist, David Copperfield kind). I’m serious. Ever since I read Nora Roberts’ Honest Illusions, I’ve had a thing for magicians, and I finally decided to write one. The magic act doesn’t play a huge part—it’s more like flavoring. The more significant part is that the hero and the heroine were in Spain during the Peninsular Wars. The heroine’s father is British and her mother Spanish; the hero is the son of wealthy Spaniards who fell on hard times after they lost everything to looting British soldiers at the Battle of Corunna. That’s why Rafael became a performer—to survive at a young age. He prospers, and when the book opens, he has just moved next door to the school to turn the adjacent property into a pleasure garden that will rake in the big bucks. Needless to say Lucy and Mrs. Harris are a little perturbed at the idea of a Vauxhall-type operation next door to the girl’s school. Cousin Michael gets clandestinely involved, Lucy gets not-so-clandestinely involved, and as usual in my books, things turn out to be not quite what they seem.

Part of the story is influenced by my absolute adoration of the Sharpe series, which I watched for the first time last year. I loved the insight it gave me into the Peninsular Wars. Plus, I just love Spanish guys. So there you go.

And yes, right after that comes Charlotte and Michael’s book, for those following the series. So y’all can all stop writing me to ask if they’re ever getting a book!

Debra: Okay guys! Now's your chance to ask those probing questions your momma told you never to ask.

Betina ponders: Family Stories and Writing

Okay, I've been a history buff almost as long as I've been a story buff. I had history teachers who told great stories unlike anything we read in our official textbooks. Travel only cemented my love of history. At age 14, I had one of those mystical museum moments while standing in Independence Hall in Philadelphia. I felt like I was there, at the Continental Congress, listening, absorbing, breathing the same air. I was never quite the same afterward.

I guess it was only natural that I grew to love history; my folks loved it and had lots of stories of our ancestors. There were romantic tales of King Charles I's cavaliers being run out of England and sailing for the new world. There are some records that verify that family members arrived in 1640 or thereabouts. And there's the story about how some of the family were royalists during the American Revolution and were burned out by rebel neighbors and fled across the Appalachian mountains to eastern Kentucky. Like I said, great stories.

Interestingly, as I'm researching my newest book, I've run into some people with my birth name, Maynard, who also have interesting stories to tell. One of them, Frances Evelyn Maynard, who was generally called "Daisy," married Francis Greville, Lord Brooke, the eldest son and heir of George Greville, the 4th earl of Warwick. Apparently Daisy was something of a doozy. This is a picture of her.

She not only inspired the Gay 90's hit song "Daisy Daisy," she also went on to have a grand affair with the future King Edward VII of England. (Queen Victoria's son and heir). She would have been famous enough for that, but she apparently got a hankering for yet another fella and two-timed the future king with a buddy of his, Charles, Baron Beresford. This caused a major split between the future king and his friend and spawned a couple of embarrassing legal tangles that required the Prime Minister to intervene to keep it all from landing in the courts!

Cool! Royal betrayals and intrigues involving sex and power. All started by a little Maynard girl.

Dang, I gotta write a book about this!

As for the Krahns. . . not a lot of flash and dash in their background. When my boys did their 5th grade "family history" project, we didn't have much information on their dad's side. The Krahns were relative newcomers to America-- the 1880's. They settled into the heartland and into lives of productivity and boring respectability. Seeing my boys' disappointment, I mentioned that far back in history, the Krahn ancestors had probably been a part of the Hun hordes. Huns? Yeah, you know. . . barbarian invaders.

Barbarians! All right! The guys were thrilled. Real bad-ass barbarians in the family! I didn't have the heart to disillusion them. But it did get a little annoying when they started calling their dad the "Head Hun." They're old enough to know better now, but there's still a wistful pride in their eyes when they talk about the old Krahns. I can tell they're picturing great, shaggy, battle-hardened warriors who eat with their bare hands.

Anyway, we've now searched out the Krahns as far back as we can go in this country. It turns out that just getting here from Germany was an ordeal. The trip makes for fascinating and heartbreaking reading. The Krahns lost a two year old and a two month old on the trip over-- due to a measles outbreak on the ship. Something like 23 children died in steerage on that trip from Bremen, Germany to Baltimore. Just imagine what that must have been like. . . stuck in that cold, cavernous hold with sick and dying children and mothers going crazy with grief. Aghh. Those folks had to be tough as shoe leather just to survive.

See? Stories. And it all becomes grist for the mill. As a writer I view the world and all its history as source material for great love stories. Even my own history and connections-- loose as they are-- provide a million possible stories.

I could be at this until I'm 90!!!

What about you? Have you found connections to your family stories in your writing research? Ever written about them? Have any stories from your family history that you'd like to share? Got any ancestor skeletons you'd rather keep in the closet? Horse thieves? Bank robbers? Bigamists? Snake oil salesmen? Shady ladies? Come on, you can tell us. . .

Debra -- WEB SLINGER

Hey, chickadees!

This will be a short blog today. ::audible gasps::

Why? Well I've been gone for almost a week and it's tax season. Yep. The real world rears it's ugly head about this time of year. Clients yell. New software's been installed and had unexpected results about this time. I get more behind on my "To Do" list each day. I always manage to say yes to something I shouldn't have added to my responsibilities. But I did and there you go.

It's MARCH MADNESS time!!

Which means I need your help. I've just finished the "design comp" for the new BelleBooks website look. You can see it above. Now go look at the current. www.BelleBooks.com
(I didn't design the current look.)

Now take another look at the new version above, which I did design. (I had to learn Photoshop to do this!!!!) Imagine that the smaller book covers represent our entire catalogue (most recent titles up first) are scrolling across the screen and will gently disappear behind the green bar-flower graphic. I still have some tweaking to do, but could you tell me the first two or three words that spring to mind when you see the new design?

Hopefully I'll get to the supporting page layouts done in the next couple of weeks and we can move the website over to the new look.

Do any of you design your own websites? Work in Photoshop? Play with graphics? Digital scrapbooking? (which is a real possibililty for me now that I've learned Photoshop.)

The Treadmill

While I was growing up (Helen here) my mom stayed at home and my dad was self-employed. She helped him with some of his monthly accounting work, but taking care of a family of eight kids pretty much took up all her time. I could spend paragraphs listing all the modern conveniences my parents didn’t have. Even so, I remember Sundays as truly being a day of relaxation.

My dad probably made up for it by working twelve hour days most the rest of the week, but my parents religiously went out as a couple on Friday nights and Sundays were days of rest for the entire family. After church, we went for drives, watched football games, visited friends or relatives, hung out. I probably read two Harlequin Presents every weekend.

Is it just me or has life gotten busier?

I honestly don’t remember the last full (non-sick) day I sat around and did absolutely nothing. I’m writing full-time and my dh works full-time, and we still have kids at home, so life is busy. And we’re not alone. Something like 60% of all married couples today are in dual-earner relationships. It’s no surprise we have no free time.

Sometimes, I wonder, though, if this better standard of living we think we’ve got is actually worth it. Just think of all the free time we’d have if we weren’t so busy working to pay for all these modern day conveniences.

Off the top of my head: daycare, housekeepers, lawn care, snowplowing, window washing, dog walking, errand services, bill paying services. We eat out or bring take-out home because we don’t have time to cook. We shop on-line, probably pay more for many of the goods and pay shipping for clothes, pharmaceuticals, books, gifts, and electronics.

Then there are the luxuries we could’ve only dreamed about twenty years ago. I don’t know about you guys, but we had only one TV in my house when I was a kid. As an adult, I’ve got five. The first time I flew in an airplane I was thirteen. Both of my kids were on their first flights before they were three months old.

Now we’ve got microwaves, answering machines, home computers, and automatic dishwashers. We pay a lot of money for the convenience of cell phones, cable, movie rental memberships and health club memberships.

We can’t just get a new car, we need an SUV. A new one every three years, please. Boats, snowmobiles, four wheelers, cabins (to relax at), or timeshares (to relax at), swimming pools, hottubs (to relax in). Am I missing anything?

Oh, yeah. We get manicures, pedicures and massages, all because we’re so stressed out.

I don’t know about you guys, but this lifestyle is killing me.

How did we get on this treadmill (like the visual)? More importantly, how do we get off?

Oh, and for fun, wanna take a life expectancy quiz? Check it out: http://moneycentral.msn.com/investor/calcs/n_expect/main.asp

Me and my youtube - a little treadmill fun:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv5zWaTEVkI

Babes in Bookland

My friend Samantha had a baby ten days ago. As she was previously a MOOS like me (mother of only sons), when she discovered it was a girl some months back she was thrilled. The pregnancy was a bit of a surprise (typical of the bewildered male, her dear husband--a college professor-- asked, “How did that happen?”) but with pink blankets and hair bows in the offing, it has seemed like forever before Maddie arrived.

I’m such a baby lover. I’m the one peeking into all the strollers as they pass. I was at the pediatrician with Son 2 last week and was elated to see a brand new baby and a four-month-old. Their “crying” is so quiet! When I’m with a friend with a little one, I’m the person letting her coffee go cold or lunch untouched so I can hold the infant while Mom gets a break. Don’t know where I get my deep connection to babies from, but it’s been there since I babysat my first infant at 13 and only intensified when I spent all my extra money on clothes for my first niece when I was in my early twenties (okay, it was combined with a shopping thing, but who doesn’t love teensy clothes?).

We have video footage of me falling in love with Son 1 just hours after he was born. Okay, I admit, we don’t have the same footage for Son 2 (why does that happen? we don’t have nearly as much footage or photos of him) but I remember vividly telling him to stay 6 days old forever. Bad boy, he did not.

But confession time, when it comes to romance novels, I don’t feel the baby love. In the past, I’ve written some stories with babies/little kids complicating matters, but my creativity doesn’t flow that way these days. Am I hankering for the simple life? For the past when I could scoot off not having to worry about dragging a diaper bag or calculating how many hours until car pool? The fact is, though, I haven’t carried diapers and wipes in quite some time, so… Oh, man, wait a minute. I know where to place the blame.

On Jon & Kate Plus 8. You know it, right? The reality show on TLC and Discovery Health starring the family comprised of Mom, Dad, a pair of twins, and a set of sextuplets. The kids are all under about the age of seven. Imagine! That’s my problem too. I imagine myself as part of that family, and after thinking of eight carseats and eight lunches and the eight million gazillion hours of “homework help” in the future, I can’t imagine ever feeling amorous around a little kid again.

But I want to break the cycle! Help me! Do you have a favorite romance with a child in the mix? I want to feel the baby love again.

GUEST BLOGGER - GENNITA LOW

Okay, kiddies! We are in for such a treat today.

One of the funniest and most original writers I know is here. She's such a well-behaved lass that she neglected to mention her recent (Mira 5/07) and upcoming (Mira 12/08) books! Plus she's got an entire world of kick-ass heroines and yummy heros. Here a SEAL; there a SEAL, everywhere a SEAL. What's not to like?

So, she's here for one day only to entertain and answer our questions about suspense.




I thought I would relate about my writing process.

Mine is like getting a massage. And I don't mean just a plain old ordinary massage because suspense is all about plunging into a series of action-packed scenes, with dangerous things happening to the hero/heroine, and of course, letting things slide out of control. And while all this is happening, the writer (me) has to keep saying, "Well, it can't get worse than this," and of course, I make it so.

I can hear you now. Come on, Gennita, massages are lovely and relaxing experiences, meant to make the mind zone out, and put you in the zen state. There is no such thing as a suspenseful massage.

Well, you're so wrong. Let me tell you about the Korean Super Special Spa Pack.

One day, my sister booked me for a spa appointment in Fairfax, VA. It was a holiday weekend, and everything was either closed or booked, but she finally found an opening in a Korean spa. Okay, I've never been to one before, but I'm no stranger to the exotic and odd since I've been to a unisex Finnish spa before (another adventure for another time), so I just shrugged and told her, "Sure, sis, book me. It's in Fairfax. How foreign can it be?" She booked me for the Korean Super Special Spa Pack.

1) First step in suspense. Something odd happens.

I knew something was up when the Korean lady (who spoke no English) handed me a toothbrush. I took it from her and stared at it. Why would she want me to brush my teeth before a massage?

There was an open shower area and I guess I was expected to shower too. Okay. Did both.

2) Second step in suspense. Strange things begin to happen.

It didn't take long before I found out that the Special Pack was a total NEKKID facial and body scrub massage punching bag elbow rubbing head to toe humiliation process.

A half-nekkid lady appeared. I blinked. That was the last time I blinked because, the Special Pack also included a facial. If you're the claustrophobic type, this one ain't for you. I was wrapped in this seaweedy mummy gauzy padding and could barely see through the slits.

Remember, I was nekkid. And I thought (yes, you got it right), "How much worse can this get?"

3) Third step in suspense. It gets worse.

My masseuse (whom I couldn't see) started working on my body like it was a piece of meat. I kept thinking, in a oddly calm hysterical way, “A NEKKID woman is soaping me!” I have never had a nekkid woman soap me. The fun really began when she started to deep massage me and SMACK me. Not hard, just like: Smack, Smack! Massage, massage...Smack! Smack! Massage. I was having visions of being in a Bertrice Small novel and I started to crack up, except that I dare not laugh because seaweed would fall into my mouth...

And I thought (go on, repeat after me), "How much worse can this get?"

I was turned over. Whew, at least my boobs weren't staring up in embarrassed surprise any more. My masseuse started elbowing all the knots in my muscles. Then she SPANKED ME. SPANK! SPANK! I think I swallowed some seaweed. I was still cracking up when she started to punch my legs. PUNCH PUNCH! Massage, massage. Then she punched the BOTTOM of my feet. PUNCH! PUNCH! Massage, massage.

My arms and legs were moved in all sorts of positions that would rival the Karma Sutra. Trust me, some of these positions would make your face red.

Through it all, I thought, "It can't possibly get worse than that."

No?

4) Fourth step in suspense. Prove yourself wrong.

THEN to TOP IT ALL, she CLIMBED ON TOP of me and started sliding her knees up and down behind my oiled thighs and calves. It felt great BUT A NEKKID WOMAN WAS SLIDING UP AND DOWN ME. ARgggghhhhh.

There was nothing I could say or do. I had seaweed in my eyes, on my face, in my mouth. I was supposed to be relaxed and feeling at one with the universe. I wasn't. And I couldn't run away. A naked, hysterical woman with weird stuff pasted on her face running down the street in Fairfax just wasn't me. So I lay there. And hoped there was no camera taping this adventure for some Internet Weird Site.

5) The Suspense Ends. Your Heroine and Hero Survive.

The last part of the Super Pack involved the Mummy Experience. My masseuse scalded me with the HOTTEST towels I ever had and deep massaged me. Then she cooled me off with cold towels. Repeat with Hot Towels.

I was finally unmasked...and had to hide my maniacal trying-not-to-scream smile. She cleaned me off, picking seaweed crumbs off my face, MY ARMPITS, even washed my hair and massaged the top of my head. I prayed that this part would NOT include smacking the top of my head. No thumping on the head, whew.

She poured milky stuff all over me and did a slow rub down. I almost slid off the table, the stuff was so slick. Finally, she matter-of-factly tapped my shoulder and pointed to the nearby spa pool to wash off. I crawled away in relief.

I will tell you girls, just like finishing a suspense novel, I couldn't walk properly the next morning. I still couldn't feel my body parts. I felt like I'd been in a Korean SPAR.

And *that* is my writing process.

Adventure!

Lois Greiman

I just returned from Costa Rica where it was a little more than 100 degrees warmer than it is here in Minnesota. But the temperature wasn’t the best part of the trip. It was the ADVENTURE.

Here’s the scoop: My oldest son planned to vacation with friends in Central America, but they dropped out at the last minute. He had planned to climb a mountain, trek through the rainforests, and campout nightly. AND he planned to do it on $500.

As much as I hated leaving the frigid northwesterlies of my homeland, I couldn’t let my wee son (24 and 6’3”) brave the tropical climes alone. That would be wrong. So I shoved a backpack into my suitcase and boarded a plane.

We arrived in San Jose on Saturday and headed for the hills. On Monday morning we set out with our packs for the lodge on Mt. Chirippo. It was the hardest 7 miles of my life and took us ten hours. The lodge was really just a concrete garrison. Very cold, with solar lights which turned off at 8 pm and didn’t come on again until dusk the next day. At dawn we trekked the rest of the way to the summit. There was frost on the ground and the last kilometer or so was as steep as a staircase but once I was able to breathe again the view was spectacular. At 3800 meters above sea level you can see both the Pacific and the Atlantic.

We made it back down the mountain on the following day although it was totally dark long before we finished our hike. The Ticos get about twelve hours of light a day year around. It seemed very strange, but not problematic. Turns out that after 30 kilometers of trudging I can sleep for twelve hours straight.

Despite my uncertainties, I could still walk on the following morning. I just didn’t want to, but my wee son had made plans. We hiked for 5-14 hours every day.

The jungle is amazing! So dark, so loud, so fantastic. Even in the dry season, thousands of foil-bright petals are strewn across the trails. Plants grow on plants that are growing on plants. The flowers look like exotic birds set in strange positions. We saw slothes, river otters, freaky frogs, a million funky lizards, and three types of monkeys, some of which tended to howl at us as we passed through their world. And the beaches…they stretch on forever and where we were…often 10 miles from the nearest road, there was not another living soul in sight.

The rural areas of the country are a world apart. A world where people live with their chickens under their houses. Where they ride horses to school, where public transportation consists of a jeep with two wooden benches meant for 8 passengers. But which will hold 14--believe me.

I came back leaner and happier and better educated than I’ve been in years. I also came back with a yearning to see more of the world. Not the Hiltons and the Holiday Inns, but the real world, the simpler world. I want to see it and explore it and feel it.

It’s taken me nearly half a decade to discover what a big, gorgeous world it is out there.

So what parts of our amazing planet have inspired you? I’m looking for my next adventure.

What’s the point? Plot point, that is.

Okay, most of us are writers, right? Whether we are well into a career, have a manuscript or two under our belt but haven’t cracked that ‘publication’ hurdle yet or are still in the ‘thinking about writing a book’ stage, we all harbor dreams of writing that perfect book.

And to write that perfect book, we need to have the perfect plot. Or at least we have to have A plot – someone, probably an editor – will notice if we don’t :o)

How to plot is the million dollar question. And for my money, plotting is the most single difficult issue. My writing friends often ask me – how do you plot? How do you get all those pieces working together in a seamless, cohesive story?

Now I love my writing friends. And I want to help them in any way I can. So I always answer them truthfully: I DON’T KNOW!!!

How can that be? But I really don’t know. It’s humiliating and embarrassing and ego busting. I mean really. I’ve been fortunate enough to have sold over 30 books, and currently have a publisher who is anxiously awaiting delivery of yet one more. Shouldn’t I know what I’m doing by now? Well, shouldn’t I? Shouldn’t I be able to sit down each morning to write, full of confidence as I merrily charge through plot point after plot point, guided by my carefully crafted blueprint that will lead me effortlessly to a stunning and brilliant conclusion? Shouldn’t I be able to write ten to twenty pages a day without batting an eye?

Well, I bat my eyes. A lot. Ticks develop. It ain’t pretty. And it’s demoralizing to look up from the PC that you sat down in front of at 8:00 am, realize it’s 2:30 pm and you’ve written all of two – count ‘em TWO – paragraphs.

Okay. So ALL days are not like that but more than I’d like to count – or admit to – are. And the really weird thing – given all of this turmoil, I still manage to get my books written, turn them in on time and make my publisher happy.

Is there a point to all of this? Well, actually, yeah. I’m a deeply disturbed writer – but that’s not the point today. The point is, we all struggle in this crazy business – with plot, with characterization, with carrying on. And because I know I’m not alone, I want to share something that I hope will help. NO, sorry, it’s not how I plot – that was just a ruse to get you reading. But we can talk about plotting sometime if you’d like. What I want to share are some affirmations that a dear friend shared with me and that have helped me through those two paragraph days so that I can get on to the ten to twenty page days and whip that elusive plot into shape.

Here goes:

AFFIRMATIONS FOR WRITERS

* Every day, in every way, I’m getting better and better.
* I like and respect myself. I know I am a worthy, capable and valuable person.
* I guide my own destiny, and I’m accountable for the results of my decisions and actions.
* I reinforce my successes and correct for errors.
* I easily anticipate and experience events in my imagination before they actually happen.
* I am my own expert, and I am not affected by the negative attitudes and opinions of others.
* I easily balance the needs of my family with my own need to write.
* Creativity flows through me easily and effortlessly.
* I am a talented writer.
* I have a positive expectancy of big success, and I take temporary setbacks easily.
* I am a creative person and develop my plots with confidence and imagination.
* Images and words come easily when I sit down to write.
* I have unlimited potential; I have unlimited creativity.
* I happily accept the joys and responsibilities of being published and welcome success.
* I write daily with excitement, enthusiasm, and confidence.
* I am well-organized and have a vivid picture of my goals.
* I don’t wait for inspiration. Work inspires inspiration. If I succeed, I keep working. If I fail, I keep working. Whether I feel interested or bored, energized or tired, encouraged or discouraged, I keep working.
* I have the craftsmanship and creativity to successfully finish this book.

And yet a few more self-affirmations from Shad Helmstetter: (THE SELF-TALK SOLUTION)

* I have talents and skills and abilities. I even have talents and skills that I don’t know about yet. And I am discovering new talents inside myself all the time.
* I invest my time and energies where I choose. My time and energy are gifts which I guard and give by my choice - - but never by the demands, dictates, or the expectations of others.
* I am a winner. I am absolutely determined to achieve my aims. I am steadfast and persistent in the pursuit of my goals, and I will not give up.
* Each day my confidence in my self-expression grows stronger and even more positive. I express myself easily, without fear or uncertainty.
* Each day I consciously remove from my mind the imaginary bindings of self-doubt and the unnecessary limitations of uncertainty and fear.
* I am never afraid to try.
* I was not created to fail; I was created to succeed. Success is a part of who I am and a part of everything about me.

Okay people. These things only work if you use them. My advice – print them out, place them where you can access them at any time and READ THEM OUTLOUD until you start believing them.

Does anyone else have ‘props’ they use to help them through those tough writing days? Have you relied on affirmations before and have they been helpful? Am I the only one out here who doesn’t know what she’s doing???? Let’s hear it. Disturbed minds want to know.

IT'S A GIRL!!!!

Life is sweet. Our 4th grandchild, Haley Brianne Gerard charmed her way into the world February 15th.
As you can see, Gramma Cindy is already in love.

Thanks for indulging me.

Love: The Day After

Yesterday was for romance and roses, and all things heart-shaped, poetic and red. But reality quickly crushes those flimsy sentiments. Only the strong survive. Today is for the survivors. Today seperates those truly in love from those who just like the pretty decorations. If you survived yesterday...you may have this love thing figured out.

On the Day After Valentine's Day...

...Some women will lean over that bouquet of unopened roses, see that the buds are already browning, and then chuck the whole dozen. Her SO [Significant Other] obviously bought frozen flowers from a bucket at the gas station on the corner. When will they ever learn?

...Some women will struggle into that flimsy piece of satin and lace their SO gifted them. But the damn thing is four sizes too small (the size your SO imagines you to be, or the size you once were—for about two minutes). Once shoved into the hideous bit of satin, those women will sneak a peek at the mirror. Body parts ooze out around the tight satin straps and lace gets wedged in places she didn't realize could wedge. With a gutteral cry of determination never again to hold out hope for the tag one size fits all, she will tear the thing off and vow next year she'll buy her SO a Boy's size Speedo with red hearts on the butt.

...Some women will drop yet another heart-shaped pendant into their growing collection of heart-shaped pendants purchased by the SO for 60% off at JCPenney's, Sears, Kohl's or Home Depot. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, but honey, cubic zirconia just plain sucks.

...Some women will don big black sunglasses and an Audrey Hepburn scarf to sneak into Target to return that heart-shaped waffle maker in exchange for season 1 of Supernatural. Then they'll watch the episodes after the SO has gone to bed, and drool over the Brothers Winchester, yes, even hitting pause for the towel scenes. When will the SOs ever get that kitchen appliances are not gifts? [Hee. I so worked another pic of Sam and Dean into this blog!]

...Some women will stare in horrific wonder (or wondrous horror) at the sex toy they received from their SO. It comes with six of those big batteries, a backup power adaptor, and has five speeds that go all the way to 'mach'. She worries about possible third-degree burns to sensitive body parts, and neighborhood-wide electrical outages.

...So it was the one day of the year that sex should be on the menu, and some women agreed for the sake of the holiday. Now she's wondering if that last Kama Sutra move was the one to throw out her hip, and is a Charlie horse supposed to last until noon?

...Sex? What sex? Some women will wade through the candy wrapper flotsom left in their childrens' wake, and realize the reason said children bounced off the walls all night (thus negating all attempts at sex) was because they consumed chocolate and high fructose corn syrup in weight equivalent to a small household pet.


...Some women will dump that mosquito-spray stinking concoction rumored to be eau de cologne down the toilet where it belongs, and replace with their favorite scent. Heck, the bottle is pretty.

...Some women didn't make it until sunrise. Instead, they were putting down Tums at three A.M. after that heart-shaped pizza with the extra tomato sauce that the SO lovingly brought home and presented as a home-cooked meal.

...Some women are unresponsive and near catatonic, due to a massive overdose of Godiva chocolates. [Okay, so there's nothing wrong with a little siesta after an entire heart-shaped box of chocolates.]

So what about you? Did you survive the most romantic day of the year? What was one of your most disasterous/horrifying/unromantic gifts?

Valentine's Day: Pictures with Sweethearts

For your viewing pleasure this marvelous Valentine's Day!



Tike, Betina and Rex, not necessarily in that order!












Christie and surfer guy, aka Rob

Look, it's a flower dog! Too cute!















Lois and Scott

Is that SHORT hair on Lois? Wow!














Debra and Wayne

Pretty good aim, Deb, considering you're looking at the camera!
















Kathy and Clive

I love a man in a uniform!

















Michele and Jeff

It'll be twenty years this April! Sometimes it feels like forty, other times like two. But he's cute, so I think I'll keep him! Happy Valentine's Day everyone!







Cindy and Tom

Look at those smiles. Could we possibly have known what we were getting into? Apparently we did. We're still together after all these years. And yes, there was color film WAY BACK THEN - we just opted for the artsy look.

That's what they all say, Cindy.







Helen and Mark

A man can get a lot of mileage out of a good kiss!
















Susie and Matt.

(Hehehe. That's what she gets for not sending me a picture.)


Happy Valentine's Day everyone!!

And if you've got a bit of wisdom to share, we're all ears or hearts, as the case may be. Let 'er rip.

Please welcome the amazing JoAnn Ross!!

There is not a lot I can say about our wonderful guest today that someone else hasn’t already said and said better. JoAnn Ross is a master storyteller, an incredible talent and a really great person to have as a friend. JoAnn’s latest release, FREEFALL hit the shelves last week and is already on the way to becoming a blockbuster bestseller. I am so thrilled to have her join us in the convertible. Please welcome JoAnn Ross. And don’t be shy. JoAnn loves to ‘chat’ with her readers. And now, here's JoAnn ......

So, anyone read any good tabloids lately? For those of you who’ve been too busy living your own lives, here’s a bit of celebrity news. And since I’d hate to put a pall over Valentine’s Day week, I’m sticking with positive stuff. . .

Posh Spice celebrated her son Cruz’s third birthday at FAO Schwarz in New York City. Among his birthday gifts were a gumball machine, filled with sugar-free gumballs.

Kate Walsh, formerly of Grey’s Anatomy and star of Private Practice, tested out her now husband by having him meet the dog she’d adopted from an L.A. shelter. Fortunately, Lucy the Dog welcomed him with open paws.

Supermodel Bridget Moynahan, the ex of New England Patriot’s quarterback Tom Brady, didn’t have any morning sickness or gain any weight while she was pregnant with Tom’s son. (Okay. Heck with feeling the V-Day love, let’s all pause a moment to hate her.)

And speaking of babies, Matthew McConaughey -- who lives in two tricked-out Airstream trailers in Malibu -- and his girlfriend are expecting. He says they’re “stoked and wowed.”

These are all happy news stories that the celebs wanted out. But there’s obviously a downside to fame too, because if you're in the public spotlight, your life is pretty much open season for anyone with a long lens on their Nikon. Or even, these days, the camera on a cell phone. (And let’s not even get into those mug shot photos, which, lets face it, even the most high-minded of us sort of get a guilty kick out of.)

Although we obviously want lots of people to buy our books, most of the writers I know are, by nature, very private people. One of the cool things about my job is that I can go just about anywhere without being recognized. (Okay, there is the fact that I occasionally have to sign information sheets at doctors' and dentists' offices, which means, if I don't floss, my dentist's hygienist can tell on me to other patients.) But, mostly, I can slip under the radar.

So, in the interest of full disclosure, here are ten things I suspect most readers don't know about me:

1) My first job, when I was three years old, was in a roller skating follies. My mother was a chorus line skater (sort of a Rockette on wheels), and since dependable day care was hard to come by in those days, I was made a member of the troop. My pay, a hot fudge sundae and a weekly movie matinee, seemed extraordinarily generous at the time.

2) My early years were spent in a bungalow on Santa Monica Beach, with bulked up bodybuilders from L.A.'s Muscle Beach as babysitters.

3) While still in grammar school, I wrote melodramas, casting my sisters and neighborhood kids in the roles; tickets cost a dime and since I was a prolific writer, box office receipts paid for my first bike.

4) After my mother remarried, I moved to the remote ranching country of Southern Oregon. Because the Cascade Mountains blocked television signals, people were forced to find other ways to amuse themselves. When I was ten-years-old, I led a group of kids to an abandoned cattle slaughter house and convinced them that the blood spattered all over the floor and walls was from murdered Girl Scouts.

5) While in high school, I interviewed local “celebrities” on a weekly afternoon television news/talk show.

6) I worked as a magician's assistant. (And no, I will not reveal how I was cut in half.)

7) I played folk piano in coffee houses, still believe Dylan's Blowin' in the Wind is one of the best songs ever written, but hope never to hear Puff the Magic Dragon again!

8) I married my high school sweetheart. Twice.

9) I have skydived over the Arizona desert.

10) I dearly hope editors never discover that I'd write for chocolate.

So, that's my semi-private stuff. What thing about you would your friends and neighbors be surprised to discover? And to encourage people to share, lucky respondents, chosen at random, will receive an autographed book of their choice from my backlist, along with assorted bookmarks, covers, and a Freefall special dark chocolate bar. They’ll also be entered in a drawing for a traditional South Carolina sea grass basket filled with scrumptious Lowcountry treats. The winners of the baskets will be announced on my website, http://www.joannross.com March 1.