In A Small-Town Girl, two beagles cause all kinds of trouble. Unfortunately, I have first-hand experience with this! So, in honor of my March release, here’s my personal beagle story.
I’m not a great entertainer, but I am a pretty organized hostess. I enjoy having people over, and I do enjoy that crazy, hectic excitement that comes just hours before everyone is supposed to arrive.
Unfortunately, my hostessing claim to fame is not on the many dinner parties that have been successful, but instead on the Dinner Party That Almost Wasn’t. I blame all of this on our beagle.
We have the sweetest beagle in the world. Her name is Phoebe, and she’s now 11 years old. Basically, all she really does is sleep. Her other main activity is eating…and that’s when one evening everything went wrong.
It all started when my husband, a salesman, was given an account to try to sell. After two years of hard work, he and his team were very close to getting a decision. Six people flew into Cincinnati to prepare and ultimately give the final presentation. After months of meeting in hotels, my husband and I thought it would be great to have everyone over at our house for dinner. It was a piece of cake for me to plan. I ordered a beautiful Honey Baked Ham and made a whole bunch of side dishes. The afternoon that everyone was due to arrive, I set the table, bought flowers, made sure I had drinks and coffee…even made a cake. I waited until the very last moment to get out of my sweats and put on a dress.
Well, when I got back downstairs, two things happened: the phone rang,--my husband, saying they were five minutes away, and I noticed Phoebe lying on the ground. Beside her was my ham. Yep, my beagle somehow found supernatural powers, jumped up on the table and pulled the whole 9 pound ham to the ground. She’d managed to eat a big chunk of it, too.
Oh no!
Panic set in. I had the vice president of my husband’s company due any minute! I had a giant ham mark on my white tablecloth from where the ham had been dragged off the plate and pulled down to the floor. Phoebe also wasn’t doing too well, either. She was looking a little green…obviously no ham was intended for such beagle consumption.
Hastily, I did the only thing I could…I picked up the ham, rinsed it off, lopped off the corner that looked attacked, and put it back on the plate. I found a pretty cloth napkin and hastily covered the grease spot on my linen tablecloth. I tossed the beagle outside just as the garage door opened.
After serving drinks and appetizers, everyone sat down. As everyone ate, Phoebe circled the table, just like a shark. I glared at her and tried to pretend she didn’t look seriously like she was about to, well…divest herself of the ham.
Finally, when the rest of the table was busy talking, Tom said, “Shelley, what’s wrong?”
“The dog ate half the ham,” I whispered.
Unfortunately…there’d been a break in the conversation. Everyone heard. “What?” someone asked.
I could feel my husband’s horrified glare as I tried to laugh it off. As confidently as possible, I relayed how we were all eating Phoebe’s leftovers--just as everyone was staring at their now empty plates. Almost in unison, eight forks hit the table.
And the beagle’s stomach started to gurgle.
Oh no!
Well, before I knew it, everyone left the house in a rush and I was left alone with a sick dog.
But still, there’s more!
Of course, my son needed a poster board for a school project, so I loaded my son in the front seat, beagle in the back, and ran to Walgreens. By this time it was dark. We left the beagle in the car, got the posterboard, got home and cleaned up.
The next morning, my husband woke up late, took the car, drove to the big meeting, gave his presentation, then offered to the drive the VP to the airport…where they both discovered that the beagle had uh, gotten rid of the ham in the backseat while I’d been at Walgreens. I’d been too busy with my son to notice, and my husband had been too worried about the big meeting to notice.
Needless to say, the VP wasn’t impressed.
That’s the last time I’ve offered to give a dinner party. In fact, the last time someone came in town for a meeting, Tom offered to take them to a very nice restaurant. Far away from beagles!
Friday, March 02, 2007
Generation Me
Did anyone see the news coverage citing that kids who grew up in the 1980's are "more narcissistic and self-centered than their predecessors"? Evidently teachers and parents are to blame for going overboard with phrases like "You're special." And supposedly "studies show that these kids already know their special."
Hmm…that got me wondering if the trend might be harmful to the romance book industry. Seriously, what kind of reading material will Generation Me select as they grow older? More specifically, will Generation Me women even want to read the kind of romance novels I write?
I ponder these things because a sense of community plays an important role in the Harlequin American Romance line. Our characters' lives revolve around neighbors, friends and family. Many of the books contain story lines where the hero and heroine's goals are to help others first, themselves last. I'm worried a story like that might not appeal to a Generation Me reader.
Maybe I'm concerned for nothing. Generation Me won’t be exempt from aging. Eventually, many of them will marry and have families and along the way discover that life doesn’t revolve around them. Years down the road, the American Romance line might very well see a surge in readership. I just hope I'm still putting out books then--sheesh!
Any thoughts regarding the reading preferences of Generation Me?
Marin
www.marinthomas.com
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Getting Our Names Out
When I sold my first book some 25 years ago, authors lived in a different world. No Internet. No blogs. No e-mail letters to readers. If we arranged our own publicity, it consisted of participating in a few booksignings and mailing press releases to newspapers in our home towns.
Today, there are classes and seminars devoted to teaching authors how to get their names out. We send copies of our books to websites for review, participate in chats and blogs like this one, and, of course, maintain websites (you can find mine at www.jacquelinediamond.com). We struggle to master concepts like viral marketing and virtual book tour.
Publishers have come to expect this from authors. What a mixed blessing! I love the chance to communicate directly with readers, but sometimes it’s hard to find the time.
Now, thanks to all this technology, I’m trying something new. In May, Triskelion Publishing (www.triskelionpublishing.com) will issue my first e-book, a paranormal romantic suspense called Touch Me in the Dark. It’s a sexy Gothic with a murder mystery, a ghost and a brooding, sensual hero. I’m learning the publicity ropes all over again, looking into e-book sites and chats and loops. It’s enough to make an author dizzy.
With four books coming out this year, I’ve even dared to take a shot at the Holy Grail of authors by pitching a story to Oprah. My mother, Sylvia Hyman, an internationally renowned ceramic sculptor, will turn 90 in September and has three major shows scheduled this year, including one in South Korea. I suggested a segment about mother-and-daughter creative artists and how we’ve encouraged and inspired each other throughout our long careers.
I’ll let you know how this venture turns out! In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy my trilogy for Harlequin American about police officers finding love and parenthood in a small town. It started with February’s The Doctor’s Little Secret, continues with May’s Daddy Protector and concludes in September with Twin Surprise.
Thanks for reading!
Today, there are classes and seminars devoted to teaching authors how to get their names out. We send copies of our books to websites for review, participate in chats and blogs like this one, and, of course, maintain websites (you can find mine at www.jacquelinediamond.com). We struggle to master concepts like viral marketing and virtual book tour.
Publishers have come to expect this from authors. What a mixed blessing! I love the chance to communicate directly with readers, but sometimes it’s hard to find the time.
Now, thanks to all this technology, I’m trying something new. In May, Triskelion Publishing (www.triskelionpublishing.com) will issue my first e-book, a paranormal romantic suspense called Touch Me in the Dark. It’s a sexy Gothic with a murder mystery, a ghost and a brooding, sensual hero. I’m learning the publicity ropes all over again, looking into e-book sites and chats and loops. It’s enough to make an author dizzy.
With four books coming out this year, I’ve even dared to take a shot at the Holy Grail of authors by pitching a story to Oprah. My mother, Sylvia Hyman, an internationally renowned ceramic sculptor, will turn 90 in September and has three major shows scheduled this year, including one in South Korea. I suggested a segment about mother-and-daughter creative artists and how we’ve encouraged and inspired each other throughout our long careers.
I’ll let you know how this venture turns out! In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy my trilogy for Harlequin American about police officers finding love and parenthood in a small town. It started with February’s The Doctor’s Little Secret, continues with May’s Daddy Protector and concludes in September with Twin Surprise.
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Vocabulary Brought to You by...
Hi, I'm Tanya Michaels and my first American Trouble in Tennessee will be out this July. I have a long history with Harlequin--not only have I written over a dozen books for them, I've been reading Harlequins since...well, since probably before I should have been *g*
I've loved romance novels since I was young and learned a lot about different careers and different countries, people in different life situations than I've faced (or would want to...particularly when those situations involve suspense plots or getting trapped in blizzards). Reading Harlequin Historicals set during the Regency period led to curiosity that prompted my degree in History with a focus on Great Britain. And because I often read above my grade level, I had a superior vocabulary. Not that I could always pronounce the words in my great vocabulary.
See, the problem with picking words up through context is not having anyone to go over the pronounciation with you (especially when it's an old-fashioned word most people stopped using around 1900).
I have a friend with a similar reading history who told her mom at a young age that she thought it would be quite romantic to be married in a gaze-beau, because as far as she knew that was how you said gazebo. And my mother and sister who work professionally with dogs had quite a laugh at my mangling of Papillon (don't even talk to me about Bichon Frise--come on, if you'd never heard of the breed before, wouldn't you think Bitchin' Fries was perfectly logical?) At least with the Harry Potter movies, they helped me out and made movies...it's how I finally figured out Hermione.
So I thank all the authors over the years who have contributed to my knowledge of words! I'm incredibly grateful that I have a job where I get to use my love of words every single day...without having to say them out loud.
I've loved romance novels since I was young and learned a lot about different careers and different countries, people in different life situations than I've faced (or would want to...particularly when those situations involve suspense plots or getting trapped in blizzards). Reading Harlequin Historicals set during the Regency period led to curiosity that prompted my degree in History with a focus on Great Britain. And because I often read above my grade level, I had a superior vocabulary. Not that I could always pronounce the words in my great vocabulary.
See, the problem with picking words up through context is not having anyone to go over the pronounciation with you (especially when it's an old-fashioned word most people stopped using around 1900).
I have a friend with a similar reading history who told her mom at a young age that she thought it would be quite romantic to be married in a gaze-beau, because as far as she knew that was how you said gazebo. And my mother and sister who work professionally with dogs had quite a laugh at my mangling of Papillon (don't even talk to me about Bichon Frise--come on, if you'd never heard of the breed before, wouldn't you think Bitchin' Fries was perfectly logical?) At least with the Harry Potter movies, they helped me out and made movies...it's how I finally figured out Hermione.
So I thank all the authors over the years who have contributed to my knowledge of words! I'm incredibly grateful that I have a job where I get to use my love of words every single day...without having to say them out loud.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thanks, Buddy
Buddy, the musical about Buddy Holly, is in Seattle. The other night my husband and I went, along with his cousin and wife. Buddy Holly was a bit before my time, but I’ve always loved his music. The show was fabulous! People of all ages were there, and everyone was rockin’ out to the music, which comes as no surprise. Few can resist the lure of Buddy Holly’s music.
The rhythm and the tune and the lyrics get under your skin and into your soul and before you know it, you’re boppin’ in your seat and maybe singing along. You might even belt out the tunes in the shower. Why is that? Because Holly taps universal themes within us. We are rhythmic creatures: our heartbeat and our breathing and the systems within our bodies all create continual rhythms within us. The themes in Holly’s music, love, loneliness, heartache, are themes we all can relate to because we, too, have experienced these things. Did I mention that this stuff is universal?
A good book is much like that—timeless, with a story that gets under your skin and into your soul. You may not physically dance with a book, but your mind does that dance, whether it be slow, fast, or in-between. You think about the characters and the story even when it’s over, and you may go back and read it again. Because it is on your keeper shelf.
As authors, we’d all like to write books like that. I know I do. Buddy has taught me that the things bubbling in my head and touching my heart are probably not so different from what every woman thinks and dreams about—family, love, happiness. My challenge is to connect with the reader the way Buddy connected with anyone listening to him.
Ann Roth
It Happened One Wedding, April, 2007
Another Life, April, 2007
www.annroth.net
The rhythm and the tune and the lyrics get under your skin and into your soul and before you know it, you’re boppin’ in your seat and maybe singing along. You might even belt out the tunes in the shower. Why is that? Because Holly taps universal themes within us. We are rhythmic creatures: our heartbeat and our breathing and the systems within our bodies all create continual rhythms within us. The themes in Holly’s music, love, loneliness, heartache, are themes we all can relate to because we, too, have experienced these things. Did I mention that this stuff is universal?
A good book is much like that—timeless, with a story that gets under your skin and into your soul. You may not physically dance with a book, but your mind does that dance, whether it be slow, fast, or in-between. You think about the characters and the story even when it’s over, and you may go back and read it again. Because it is on your keeper shelf.
As authors, we’d all like to write books like that. I know I do. Buddy has taught me that the things bubbling in my head and touching my heart are probably not so different from what every woman thinks and dreams about—family, love, happiness. My challenge is to connect with the reader the way Buddy connected with anyone listening to him.
Ann Roth
It Happened One Wedding, April, 2007
Another Life, April, 2007
www.annroth.net
Friday, February 23, 2007
Guest Post: Lindsey Brookes, Winner of Harlequin's Great American Romance Contest
First, let me say that I’m thrilled to have been asked to guest blog on the American authors’ blog site. I’ve been reading Americans for a very long time – love them! Besides being an avid reader, I’m a writer as well. Not published yet, but hoping to be someday soon.
It’s been a very big contest year for me. One of my manuscripts, OPERATION: DATE ESCAPE was an American Title III finalist. And then last week I learned that my entry – LOVING ELLIE – won Harlequin’s Great American Romance Novel contest.
Note to all: if you have an answering machine, be sure to check it every day. There just might be a call from an editor on it. J Let me explain - we are in the midst of huge house renovations and our answering machine was in the kitchen where our construction workers were dry walling last week. So needless to say I never checked it. I think every unpubbed author dreams of getting a call from an editor. Wouldn’t you know I finally get one and it had to come in the one day my answering machine was covered in drywall dust and not accessible. Fortunately for me, the stars were aligned just right the next day because I was actually home (and not out shopping J ) when Kathleen Scheibling tried to reach me again with the good news. She even asked to see the full! Yay! So as soon as I receive the crit of LOVING ELLIE that I get along with a free one year subscription to Harlequin American, I will make any necessary changes and get it right out to her and pray that this is the one.
LOVING ELLIE is a story about pregnant heroine who is determined to make it on her own after the untimely death of her baby’s father, and an emotionally scarred hero that returns home after several years away to settle his brother’s estate. Only to his surprise, he discovers his brother had not only a fiancée, but a baby on the way as well. Now he has to convince the heroine to let him help her with the ranch until the baby comes, knowing that in doing so he’ll have to face the ghosts of his past.
I hope you’ll all get the chance to read Ellie and Lucas’s story someday. Don’t you just love those cowboys!
Lindsey Brookeswww.lindseybrookes.com
It’s been a very big contest year for me. One of my manuscripts, OPERATION: DATE ESCAPE was an American Title III finalist. And then last week I learned that my entry – LOVING ELLIE – won Harlequin’s Great American Romance Novel contest.
Note to all: if you have an answering machine, be sure to check it every day. There just might be a call from an editor on it. J Let me explain - we are in the midst of huge house renovations and our answering machine was in the kitchen where our construction workers were dry walling last week. So needless to say I never checked it. I think every unpubbed author dreams of getting a call from an editor. Wouldn’t you know I finally get one and it had to come in the one day my answering machine was covered in drywall dust and not accessible. Fortunately for me, the stars were aligned just right the next day because I was actually home (and not out shopping J ) when Kathleen Scheibling tried to reach me again with the good news. She even asked to see the full! Yay! So as soon as I receive the crit of LOVING ELLIE that I get along with a free one year subscription to Harlequin American, I will make any necessary changes and get it right out to her and pray that this is the one.
LOVING ELLIE is a story about pregnant heroine who is determined to make it on her own after the untimely death of her baby’s father, and an emotionally scarred hero that returns home after several years away to settle his brother’s estate. Only to his surprise, he discovers his brother had not only a fiancée, but a baby on the way as well. Now he has to convince the heroine to let him help her with the ranch until the baby comes, knowing that in doing so he’ll have to face the ghosts of his past.
I hope you’ll all get the chance to read Ellie and Lucas’s story someday. Don’t you just love those cowboys!
Lindsey Brookeswww.lindseybrookes.com
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Second Chances
On Saturday, I’ll join several other authors and speak at a program called The Romance of Writing. My topic is writing as a second career.
About ten years ago, after completing two years of night school to earn my master’s degree, I was sure I was on my way to a long career in educational administration. However, just six months after, my husband was asked to move to Cincinnati. Has that ever happened to any of y’all? You’re on one track, just to find out that life has a whole other one in store for you?
Two weeks after we moved, my husband found a meeting announcement in our local paper. Ohio Valley Romance Writers of America was having a meeting at a bookstore near where we lived. That Saturday! He thought I should go.
I’ve always loved romance novels. I always wanted to write a romance, but never thought I could do it. But, well, I wasn’t a teacher anymore and was feeling kind of at loose ends….so I gathered my courage and went.
I can honestly say it was one of the scariest moments of my life. It was also one of the most eye-opening. Truly, I thought I was the only woman who had a dream of writing for Harlequin. Almost fifty women were at the meeting. And though they were from all walks of life, they had one thing in common. Together, they celebrated and supported each other’s dreams--celebrating cheers and tears and giving out information. To me, it was simply amazing.
There was also a booksigning. Lori Foster was there, signing one of her Temptations. I gathered all my courage and stood in line to get one of her books. The smile she gave me was all warmth and full of welcome.
Well, of course I joined RWA, OVRWA, and finally decided to start writing a real book. A romance. During one of those first meetings, I sat next to a gal named Heather and we hit it off and became critique partners. Over the years, two other women joined us, Hilda and Cathy.
Years passed. Now there’s a whole lot of new faces at OVRWA. Lori and I usually sit next to each other at local booksignings, since she’s an F and I’m a G.
And on Saturday, at the library gathering organized by Hilda, two women I now know very well will also be speaking-- Cathy Liggett and Heather Webber. To our surprise, Cathy, Heather, and I are published now, and Hilda’s very close.
So that’s how I began my second career—a surprise transfer, a serendipitous ad in the paper, and the support of some amazing women. Anyone else have a start they’d like to share?
About ten years ago, after completing two years of night school to earn my master’s degree, I was sure I was on my way to a long career in educational administration. However, just six months after, my husband was asked to move to Cincinnati. Has that ever happened to any of y’all? You’re on one track, just to find out that life has a whole other one in store for you?
Two weeks after we moved, my husband found a meeting announcement in our local paper. Ohio Valley Romance Writers of America was having a meeting at a bookstore near where we lived. That Saturday! He thought I should go.
I’ve always loved romance novels. I always wanted to write a romance, but never thought I could do it. But, well, I wasn’t a teacher anymore and was feeling kind of at loose ends….so I gathered my courage and went.
I can honestly say it was one of the scariest moments of my life. It was also one of the most eye-opening. Truly, I thought I was the only woman who had a dream of writing for Harlequin. Almost fifty women were at the meeting. And though they were from all walks of life, they had one thing in common. Together, they celebrated and supported each other’s dreams--celebrating cheers and tears and giving out information. To me, it was simply amazing.
There was also a booksigning. Lori Foster was there, signing one of her Temptations. I gathered all my courage and stood in line to get one of her books. The smile she gave me was all warmth and full of welcome.
Well, of course I joined RWA, OVRWA, and finally decided to start writing a real book. A romance. During one of those first meetings, I sat next to a gal named Heather and we hit it off and became critique partners. Over the years, two other women joined us, Hilda and Cathy.
Years passed. Now there’s a whole lot of new faces at OVRWA. Lori and I usually sit next to each other at local booksignings, since she’s an F and I’m a G.
And on Saturday, at the library gathering organized by Hilda, two women I now know very well will also be speaking-- Cathy Liggett and Heather Webber. To our surprise, Cathy, Heather, and I are published now, and Hilda’s very close.
So that’s how I began my second career—a surprise transfer, a serendipitous ad in the paper, and the support of some amazing women. Anyone else have a start they’d like to share?
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
The best laid plans
Today I thought I'd blog about how I finished my most recent Harlequin American and shipped it off before deadline. I've alreay started my next book, and need to have 3 chapters done for my editor's approval (since the book was bought on synopsis) by April first. I'm already half way there. I thought I'd talk a bit about the writing process.
But what you got above is all that's going to happen. One of the reasons I love the American line so much is that realist characters find love in all sort of places. I love that fantasy. I fall in love with every one of my heroes, and wonder where they are on days like today when my daughter wakes up with a cough and a 101.5 degree fever, meaning I call in using my last sick day of the year. From here on out, any day I miss is going to be very, very costly.
I'll take my youngest to the doctor, pray we don't have another strain of flu (she lost a week earlier this year and lived in my classroom's back office for 3 days since I had to work and she couldn't go to school) and while not at the doctor, I'll lose myself in my work in progress. I've got my older child home, too. I take her into the district where I work, and as I had to pick her up early for a doctor appointment for me at 3:30, it's just not worth making the 60 mile, 1.5 hour round trip for her to go a partial day. My youngest is also not up to two car rides.
So, I'm not feeling like a very good parent at this moment for one, while the other I'm waiting on her hand and foot and worried. I'm a single parent--the ex lives several states away so I do 365, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day at all times. Have for years. It's days like these that get ya.
So like the Robert Burns poem says, the best laid plans often go astray. Today a sub is in my room, my student presentations have to be postponed, and like my current American heroine, I'm simply going to roll with it. She's feisty, like me. For today, I'm going to lose myself in creating Rachel. She's a pastry chef, recently transplanted to her home town after finding her fiance doing a few unsavory things with the sous-chef.
Since it's too early to drink wine, I'm following her example and have a pan of milk chocolate brownies cooking in the oven (yes, at 7:34 AM CST). There have to be some perks to parenting!
Michele
But what you got above is all that's going to happen. One of the reasons I love the American line so much is that realist characters find love in all sort of places. I love that fantasy. I fall in love with every one of my heroes, and wonder where they are on days like today when my daughter wakes up with a cough and a 101.5 degree fever, meaning I call in using my last sick day of the year. From here on out, any day I miss is going to be very, very costly.
I'll take my youngest to the doctor, pray we don't have another strain of flu (she lost a week earlier this year and lived in my classroom's back office for 3 days since I had to work and she couldn't go to school) and while not at the doctor, I'll lose myself in my work in progress. I've got my older child home, too. I take her into the district where I work, and as I had to pick her up early for a doctor appointment for me at 3:30, it's just not worth making the 60 mile, 1.5 hour round trip for her to go a partial day. My youngest is also not up to two car rides.
So, I'm not feeling like a very good parent at this moment for one, while the other I'm waiting on her hand and foot and worried. I'm a single parent--the ex lives several states away so I do 365, 7 days a week, 24 hours a day at all times. Have for years. It's days like these that get ya.
So like the Robert Burns poem says, the best laid plans often go astray. Today a sub is in my room, my student presentations have to be postponed, and like my current American heroine, I'm simply going to roll with it. She's feisty, like me. For today, I'm going to lose myself in creating Rachel. She's a pastry chef, recently transplanted to her home town after finding her fiance doing a few unsavory things with the sous-chef.
Since it's too early to drink wine, I'm following her example and have a pan of milk chocolate brownies cooking in the oven (yes, at 7:34 AM CST). There have to be some perks to parenting!
Michele
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Year of the Boar
My husband and I went to a bang-up Chinese New Year’s party Saturday night. Interesting people of all ages, from all over the country, copious amounts of fine wine, and fabulous food—enough home-made Chinese dishes to feed a ... well, a few dozen piggies. Can you say, oink? (Oh, my poor, stretched tummy.)
Speaking of pigs, this is the year of the boar. Or pig, but frankly, I prefer “boar. “ Pigs bring to mind laziness and filth, though in truth, they are clean, intelligent animals. Who overindulge, but who am I to judge? ☺ But boars... when I think “boar” I think feral, trong, protective. Alpha male, if you will.
But in the context of the Chinese New Year, I am wrong, wrong, wrong! If you were born in the year of the boar (2007, 1995, 1983, 1971, 1959, 1947—you get the idea. It’s a twelve-year cycle) you have the following characteristics (courtesy of www.topmarks.co.uk/ChineseNewYear/?Zodiac=Boar):
Honest, peace-loving and make good friends. Will try not to argue and rarely lose their temper. Love the good things in life and are very willing to share with others. Enjoy gossip and fall in love easily. Can be untidy people at home.
In other words, people born in the Year of the Boar are danged cool people.
If you’re like me and weren’t born in the Year of the Boar, don’t fret. Sometime in the next 12 years, your year will come.
Gung hai, fat choy to everyone.
Ann Roth
It Happened One Wedding, April, 2007
Another Life, April, 2007
www.annroth.net
Speaking of pigs, this is the year of the boar. Or pig, but frankly, I prefer “boar. “ Pigs bring to mind laziness and filth, though in truth, they are clean, intelligent animals. Who overindulge, but who am I to judge? ☺ But boars... when I think “boar” I think feral, trong, protective. Alpha male, if you will.
But in the context of the Chinese New Year, I am wrong, wrong, wrong! If you were born in the year of the boar (2007, 1995, 1983, 1971, 1959, 1947—you get the idea. It’s a twelve-year cycle) you have the following characteristics (courtesy of www.topmarks.co.uk/ChineseNewYear/?Zodiac=Boar):
Honest, peace-loving and make good friends. Will try not to argue and rarely lose their temper. Love the good things in life and are very willing to share with others. Enjoy gossip and fall in love easily. Can be untidy people at home.
In other words, people born in the Year of the Boar are danged cool people.
If you’re like me and weren’t born in the Year of the Boar, don’t fret. Sometime in the next 12 years, your year will come.
Gung hai, fat choy to everyone.
Ann Roth
It Happened One Wedding, April, 2007
Another Life, April, 2007
www.annroth.net
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Little ripples...
My local school district is supporting a nation-wide drive to raise money for research into an illness that strikes young and old alike.
The drive involves having every homeroom in the school individually gather up and donate whatever loose change they can spare, find, beg, or borrow. (I'm sure the district draws the line at stealing. (smile)) The homeroom making the highest contribution gets a free lunch from a local restaurant.
Not a bad deal, huh, for a few pennies here and there?
News of the drive made me think about the old bottle I've been using as a piggybank for coins left at the end of the week, every week, for almost a year now. And I promptly decided to see just how much I'd actually saved. Grand total: forty-two dollars and eighty-seven cents.
Not a bad haul, considering that money might have trickled through my fingers. Which got me thinking...
Maybe little trickles, tiny little ripples, could make an awfully big difference out there somewhere.
It could be the cash we collect for a good cause, like the local school drive.
Or the pennies we find in the street and drop into a collection jar at a cash register.
The bagsful of clothing we donate instead of letting collect dust in our closets.
The time we spend at a homeless shelter or soup kitchen or literacy program.
The parking space we give up to the next harried shopper we see at the mall.
The empathetic smile we share with the woman in the department store with the wailing toddler wrapped around her leg.
Or the funny face we make that leaves the toddler laughing.
We might never learn what comes of those little ripples we set off. But if they hit the right place at the right time, anything could happen!
Got any ideas for making a big splash?
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
The drive involves having every homeroom in the school individually gather up and donate whatever loose change they can spare, find, beg, or borrow. (I'm sure the district draws the line at stealing. (smile)) The homeroom making the highest contribution gets a free lunch from a local restaurant.
Not a bad deal, huh, for a few pennies here and there?
News of the drive made me think about the old bottle I've been using as a piggybank for coins left at the end of the week, every week, for almost a year now. And I promptly decided to see just how much I'd actually saved. Grand total: forty-two dollars and eighty-seven cents.
Not a bad haul, considering that money might have trickled through my fingers. Which got me thinking...
Maybe little trickles, tiny little ripples, could make an awfully big difference out there somewhere.
It could be the cash we collect for a good cause, like the local school drive.
Or the pennies we find in the street and drop into a collection jar at a cash register.
The bagsful of clothing we donate instead of letting collect dust in our closets.
The time we spend at a homeless shelter or soup kitchen or literacy program.
The parking space we give up to the next harried shopper we see at the mall.
The empathetic smile we share with the woman in the department store with the wailing toddler wrapped around her leg.
Or the funny face we make that leaves the toddler laughing.
We might never learn what comes of those little ripples we set off. But if they hit the right place at the right time, anything could happen!
Got any ideas for making a big splash?
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
Friday, February 16, 2007
Winter Blues
Happy Friday everyone!
Did you know there's a website called www.ireallyhatethat.com --a place for those who get annoyed by everyday life?
Maybe it's Chicago's frigid winter temps and more snow expected tonight--just in time for the weekend (sigh) that is the cause of my grumpiness lately, but this website really spoke to me. So here are a few of my-- I really hate it whens….
I really hate it when I have to grocery shop and the outside temperature is 9 degrees/13 below with wind chill.
I really hate when I arrive at the checkout register and my bag of Fritos has a tear and the clerk doesn’t offer to send someone to replace the bag and then I say "That's okay, I don't need all the transfat," then I really hate it when I get home and suffer a transfat withdrawl and curse myself for not having demanded that new bag of Fritos.
I really hate it when my favorite pair of panties gets a tear because then I have shop for new ones and that means I probably have to buy a bigger size.
Writing related….
I really hate it when the characters in my current wip begin getting along too early in the story.
I really hate it when the ink cartridge in the printer runs out in the middle of printing off a book.
I really hate it when I have to delete an entire scene because I came up with a better idea.
I really hate it when I keep mixing up the name of my heroes or heroines because I'm working on revisions for one book while at the same time pushing forward in another book.
Ah, that felt good! Thanks for letting me vent. Want to share your..."I really hate it whens?"
Marin Thomas
Nelson in Command (Jan 07)
Enter Marin's Rooster Contest at www.marinthomas.com
Did you know there's a website called www.ireallyhatethat.com --a place for those who get annoyed by everyday life?
Maybe it's Chicago's frigid winter temps and more snow expected tonight--just in time for the weekend (sigh) that is the cause of my grumpiness lately, but this website really spoke to me. So here are a few of my-- I really hate it whens….
I really hate it when I have to grocery shop and the outside temperature is 9 degrees/13 below with wind chill.
I really hate when I arrive at the checkout register and my bag of Fritos has a tear and the clerk doesn’t offer to send someone to replace the bag and then I say "That's okay, I don't need all the transfat," then I really hate it when I get home and suffer a transfat withdrawl and curse myself for not having demanded that new bag of Fritos.
I really hate it when my favorite pair of panties gets a tear because then I have shop for new ones and that means I probably have to buy a bigger size.
Writing related….
I really hate it when the characters in my current wip begin getting along too early in the story.
I really hate it when the ink cartridge in the printer runs out in the middle of printing off a book.
I really hate it when I have to delete an entire scene because I came up with a better idea.
I really hate it when I keep mixing up the name of my heroes or heroines because I'm working on revisions for one book while at the same time pushing forward in another book.
Ah, that felt good! Thanks for letting me vent. Want to share your..."I really hate it whens?"
Marin Thomas
Nelson in Command (Jan 07)
Enter Marin's Rooster Contest at www.marinthomas.com
Thursday, February 15, 2007
What's in a title?
It’s ironic: as authors, we labor to put just the right touch in our titles, to make them grab the reader’s interest and capture the spirit of the books.
Then, more often than not, the editors change them.
Sometimes, it’s frustrating. Other times, we’re wowed by the editor’s wisdom. Mostly, we accept that she knows her business and that she’s got a tough job, balancing the marketing department’s instructions, the reader’s expectations and the need to avoid duplicating titles on other books.
It’s an interesting process, regardless of the final result. My current release, The Doctor’s Little Secret, actually bears my original title. Although it launches three books that feature police officers – in this book, the heroine – I’m known for a recent series (Downhome Doctors) about physicians. Since my latest hero is a pediatrician, I chose to put that element up front.
Plus, readers seem to love stories about “secret” babies. In this case, the hero gets a chance to reclaim the five-year-old daughter he’s always regretted giving up for adoption, so I wanted to include that angle. She’s the “little secret.”
On the other hand, my May release, Daddy Protector, was renamed. It turned out that another author recently used my first title (The Daddy Next Door), so that was the luck of the draw.
Over the course of selling more than 75 novels, I’ve wrestled with this business a lot. One editor had been looking for a book to dub A Warm December, and handed it to me (which was fine). I still would have preferred my first choice, Prince of Rogues, over its replacement, Million-Dollar Mommy, but I yielded to wiser heads. That story of a prince and the woman he hired to bear his child is still one of my favorites.
Rather to my surprise, Harlequin retained my title Daddy Warlock on a story about a man struggling with his inner wizard. Other favorite titles that I originated are The Bride Wore Gym Shoes and Excuse Me? Whose Baby? Among my top picks that editors created are Assignment: Groom! and Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby.
Funniest story: One book in a special series started out with the Harlequin-created title The Royally Knocked-Up Princess, which I found hilarious. However, the slang expression "knocked up" didn’t mean the same thing in other English-speaking countries, so it got switched to The Improperly Pregnant Princess.
Not nearly as much fun, at least to Americans. But once again, the editors knew best!
Then, more often than not, the editors change them.
Sometimes, it’s frustrating. Other times, we’re wowed by the editor’s wisdom. Mostly, we accept that she knows her business and that she’s got a tough job, balancing the marketing department’s instructions, the reader’s expectations and the need to avoid duplicating titles on other books.
It’s an interesting process, regardless of the final result. My current release, The Doctor’s Little Secret, actually bears my original title. Although it launches three books that feature police officers – in this book, the heroine – I’m known for a recent series (Downhome Doctors) about physicians. Since my latest hero is a pediatrician, I chose to put that element up front.
Plus, readers seem to love stories about “secret” babies. In this case, the hero gets a chance to reclaim the five-year-old daughter he’s always regretted giving up for adoption, so I wanted to include that angle. She’s the “little secret.”
On the other hand, my May release, Daddy Protector, was renamed. It turned out that another author recently used my first title (The Daddy Next Door), so that was the luck of the draw.
Over the course of selling more than 75 novels, I’ve wrestled with this business a lot. One editor had been looking for a book to dub A Warm December, and handed it to me (which was fine). I still would have preferred my first choice, Prince of Rogues, over its replacement, Million-Dollar Mommy, but I yielded to wiser heads. That story of a prince and the woman he hired to bear his child is still one of my favorites.
Rather to my surprise, Harlequin retained my title Daddy Warlock on a story about a man struggling with his inner wizard. Other favorite titles that I originated are The Bride Wore Gym Shoes and Excuse Me? Whose Baby? Among my top picks that editors created are Assignment: Groom! and Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby.
Funniest story: One book in a special series started out with the Harlequin-created title The Royally Knocked-Up Princess, which I found hilarious. However, the slang expression "knocked up" didn’t mean the same thing in other English-speaking countries, so it got switched to The Improperly Pregnant Princess.
Not nearly as much fun, at least to Americans. But once again, the editors knew best!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
I'm Too Pooped to Smooch!!
Ahh . . . Valentine’s Day.
Having almost literally just stepped off a plane after spending a week with ten thousand cheerleaders in Orlando for the UCA National Cheerleading Championship, romance is the last thing on my mind!! Smooches? Um, truthfully, I’d rather sleep!! LOL!!
Some of my fave Valentine’s Day memories are actually with my dad. He’d always come home extra late with gifts for me and Mom that were wrapped in tin foil. When I was little, he’d get me candy bars and piles of fab magazines like Tiger Beat! When I was older, he switched to jewelry. He has a friend who designs jewelry, so Mom and I would always get something awesome. One year, I got a gold mouse ring-- "he’s" adorable, and has rubies for eyes. Another year, Dad gave Mom and I matching Razorback necklace charms. As wonderful as those gifts were, the most memorable, was my freshman year in college.
Dad made a surprise visit to my dorm at the University of Arkansas, with candy and a cute tea mug with a lid to keep my tea warm. That year, I was lonely, and really missing my dad. Then poof!! There he was!! I still use the mug!!
Hubby and I have always celebrated quietly. Like steaks or pizza at a home, followed by a cuddling and a video rental.
Both sons, on the other hand, are all about the sweeping romantic gestures. Right now, I’m supposed to be grabbing a dozen roses for Son #1’s girlfriend. Son #2 was thoughtful enough to have done of all his shopping early!! Hubby greeted me and Daughter at the airport with super pretty hot pink dozens.
Anyone out there have a crazy romantic Valentine’s story to share? If so, I’d love to hear it!!
Happy Smooching!! ;-)
Having almost literally just stepped off a plane after spending a week with ten thousand cheerleaders in Orlando for the UCA National Cheerleading Championship, romance is the last thing on my mind!! Smooches? Um, truthfully, I’d rather sleep!! LOL!!
Some of my fave Valentine’s Day memories are actually with my dad. He’d always come home extra late with gifts for me and Mom that were wrapped in tin foil. When I was little, he’d get me candy bars and piles of fab magazines like Tiger Beat! When I was older, he switched to jewelry. He has a friend who designs jewelry, so Mom and I would always get something awesome. One year, I got a gold mouse ring-- "he’s" adorable, and has rubies for eyes. Another year, Dad gave Mom and I matching Razorback necklace charms. As wonderful as those gifts were, the most memorable, was my freshman year in college.
Dad made a surprise visit to my dorm at the University of Arkansas, with candy and a cute tea mug with a lid to keep my tea warm. That year, I was lonely, and really missing my dad. Then poof!! There he was!! I still use the mug!!
Hubby and I have always celebrated quietly. Like steaks or pizza at a home, followed by a cuddling and a video rental.
Both sons, on the other hand, are all about the sweeping romantic gestures. Right now, I’m supposed to be grabbing a dozen roses for Son #1’s girlfriend. Son #2 was thoughtful enough to have done of all his shopping early!! Hubby greeted me and Daughter at the airport with super pretty hot pink dozens.
Anyone out there have a crazy romantic Valentine’s story to share? If so, I’d love to hear it!!
Happy Smooching!! ;-)
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Romancing the Stone
Do you guys remember Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone when she was on a tight deadline? Well, that's me. The cat's walking across my keyboard, the coffee's spilled, my hair would scare Cruella DeVille, and I have on the same ratty jogging suit I wore to the park this morning. In other words - help! - I've fallen into deadline hell and I can't get out.
That's it for today. Wish me luck, I really, really need it.
Ann DeFee
Somewhere Down in Texas - Harlequin American, March 2007
That's it for today. Wish me luck, I really, really need it.
Ann DeFee
Somewhere Down in Texas - Harlequin American, March 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Deadline Dementia
Some writers thrive on deadlines. They deliberately take on more than they can handle, or spend two months redecorating or buying shoes, then freak out about having to finish their book in two weeks.
Some writers love to take it down to the wire. They're still writing those last five pages as they're printing out the manuscript, then rushing down to the 24-hour Fed Ex office to overnight the thing. They get an adrenaline high from all the rush, rush, rush.
Not me. I do not perform well under pressure. I freak out, I freeze up, I panic. Which is why I always give myself plenty of time. I write a certain number of pages every day in a very orderly fashion so that I can easily finish on time, even early, completely relaxed.
Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out that way. My current book is a good example. When I agreed to my deadline, I didn't remember that I'd volunteered to judge the Rita competition. I have six very long books to read in the next month. I've also signed on to do a lot of workshops and book-signings, most of which involve travel. And then there's this cold. I can't write when I feel sick.
Today was the crowning glory. I found a package on my doorstep ... a line-edited manuscript for my September book, ONE STUBBORN TEXAN, which has to be proofread and revised in about a week. Just as I'm recovering from that, I find out my sister and her family are coming to town this weekend.
I’m freaking here. Freezing up. The first tendrils of panic. I am approximately 50 pages behind where I should be ... eeek! Eeek!
But then, I pause and slap myself. Jeez, this is the life I wanted, and I'm complaining? Would I prefer not to have any deadlines? Would I prefer not to have books on the shelves that I need to promote? Sheesh, what a big whiney baby I am.
The book will get done. The book always gets done. Meanwhile, I intend to be grateful for my life (and my family!) whenever I can.
* * *
In other news, I have a new newsletter out and a new contest on my website, www.karalennox.com. If you like to win fun stuff, including books and chocolate, come visit me online!
Some writers love to take it down to the wire. They're still writing those last five pages as they're printing out the manuscript, then rushing down to the 24-hour Fed Ex office to overnight the thing. They get an adrenaline high from all the rush, rush, rush.
Not me. I do not perform well under pressure. I freak out, I freeze up, I panic. Which is why I always give myself plenty of time. I write a certain number of pages every day in a very orderly fashion so that I can easily finish on time, even early, completely relaxed.
Unfortunately, it doesn't always work out that way. My current book is a good example. When I agreed to my deadline, I didn't remember that I'd volunteered to judge the Rita competition. I have six very long books to read in the next month. I've also signed on to do a lot of workshops and book-signings, most of which involve travel. And then there's this cold. I can't write when I feel sick.
Today was the crowning glory. I found a package on my doorstep ... a line-edited manuscript for my September book, ONE STUBBORN TEXAN, which has to be proofread and revised in about a week. Just as I'm recovering from that, I find out my sister and her family are coming to town this weekend.
I’m freaking here. Freezing up. The first tendrils of panic. I am approximately 50 pages behind where I should be ... eeek! Eeek!
But then, I pause and slap myself. Jeez, this is the life I wanted, and I'm complaining? Would I prefer not to have any deadlines? Would I prefer not to have books on the shelves that I need to promote? Sheesh, what a big whiney baby I am.
The book will get done. The book always gets done. Meanwhile, I intend to be grateful for my life (and my family!) whenever I can.
* * *
In other news, I have a new newsletter out and a new contest on my website, www.karalennox.com. If you like to win fun stuff, including books and chocolate, come visit me online!
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Valentine's Day is fast approaching...
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching…
At this time of the year I’m always thinking about what to get my husband on this special day. His gift for me has been the same for many years; he brings home flowers, it’s been a variation over the years, and we go out to eat at a nice restaurant--my favorite thing because I don’t have to cook.
It’s his gift that gives me a headache. It has ranged from fishing and hunting magazine subscriptions and fishing lures to wine and sporting event tickets. This year I’m doing something entirely different. He loves fig preserves and his mother, who has two big fig trees, always makes them for him. But she fell and broke her hip in early summer and didn’t make any last year. She froze several bags of figs though. I now have them and tomorrow I’m making fig preserves. I think I’ve lost my mind, but love makes us do crazy things.
I’m going to do this while he’s at work so he won’t know about it until February 14. I’ve never made fig preserves before so I’m hoping for the best. I have some festive jars and lids and his mother’s recipe. What could go wrong? Ah, I may be buying a bottle of wine at the last minute.
Are you doing anything special for your loved one?
Linda Warren
ONCE A COWBOY—Feb 2007
At this time of the year I’m always thinking about what to get my husband on this special day. His gift for me has been the same for many years; he brings home flowers, it’s been a variation over the years, and we go out to eat at a nice restaurant--my favorite thing because I don’t have to cook.
It’s his gift that gives me a headache. It has ranged from fishing and hunting magazine subscriptions and fishing lures to wine and sporting event tickets. This year I’m doing something entirely different. He loves fig preserves and his mother, who has two big fig trees, always makes them for him. But she fell and broke her hip in early summer and didn’t make any last year. She froze several bags of figs though. I now have them and tomorrow I’m making fig preserves. I think I’ve lost my mind, but love makes us do crazy things.
I’m going to do this while he’s at work so he won’t know about it until February 14. I’ve never made fig preserves before so I’m hoping for the best. I have some festive jars and lids and his mother’s recipe. What could go wrong? Ah, I may be buying a bottle of wine at the last minute.
Are you doing anything special for your loved one?
Linda Warren
ONCE A COWBOY—Feb 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Research Trips
I'm working on my December 2007 release, Texan for the Holidays, and needed to make a research trip to Graham, Texas. That's about two and a half hours from my home near Dallas. I went with my friend and fellow writer, Rebecca Russell, tracing the route of my heroine, Scarlett, who gets lost (now I can really see how!) and ends up in fictional Brody's Crossing. (This will be a new series which begins with Temporarily Texan in July, 2007.) Since I'm planning a series, I created a town based on all the small Texas towns I've visited in the past 30 years, living in Texas. Brody's Crossing is not a county seat, so I gave it a few streets and no town square. However, I wanted the folks downtown to have someplace special to go, so I created a small park next to the building housing the law offices and apartment of hero James Brody. It's the size of a narrow, long lot as you might find in any small downtown area.
The point of this rather long story is that when Rebecca and I went to Graham on our research trip (which also involved antique shopping and the search for the perfect coconut pie, of course!) we found a small park/courtyard on a street around the town square. It's right across from the Young County Courthouse (which I was researching) and, as Rebecca pointed out, right next door to the law offices! I took photos and emailed them to my editor under the caption, "bizarre." Sometimes, reality is really stranger than fiction!
A similar event happened years ago when I was writing for the Kensington Precious Gems line. Back "in the day" before easy Internet research, I relied on the zip code directory online, plus a hard copy of the Texas map to make sure my fictional town of Scottsville didn't really exist in East Texas. I found no listings for the name, so wrote two books set there. To my shock, when driving back from a writer's conference in Shreveport, Louisiana (with Kara Lennox, Judy Christenberry and another writer) we saw a sign in East Texas for Scottsville! Apparently there was an old town which is now just a community center, gas station, and cemetary. They don't have their own zip code. They aren't on most maps. Again, bizarre but true! Perhaps I had seen the sign when driving there before, but honestly, I don't remember.
So, if you find places, people or events in some books that seem familiar or bizarre, please know that we try to make sure we're really writing fiction. Best wishes and happy reading until next time.
The point of this rather long story is that when Rebecca and I went to Graham on our research trip (which also involved antique shopping and the search for the perfect coconut pie, of course!) we found a small park/courtyard on a street around the town square. It's right across from the Young County Courthouse (which I was researching) and, as Rebecca pointed out, right next door to the law offices! I took photos and emailed them to my editor under the caption, "bizarre." Sometimes, reality is really stranger than fiction!
A similar event happened years ago when I was writing for the Kensington Precious Gems line. Back "in the day" before easy Internet research, I relied on the zip code directory online, plus a hard copy of the Texas map to make sure my fictional town of Scottsville didn't really exist in East Texas. I found no listings for the name, so wrote two books set there. To my shock, when driving back from a writer's conference in Shreveport, Louisiana (with Kara Lennox, Judy Christenberry and another writer) we saw a sign in East Texas for Scottsville! Apparently there was an old town which is now just a community center, gas station, and cemetary. They don't have their own zip code. They aren't on most maps. Again, bizarre but true! Perhaps I had seen the sign when driving there before, but honestly, I don't remember.
So, if you find places, people or events in some books that seem familiar or bizarre, please know that we try to make sure we're really writing fiction. Best wishes and happy reading until next time.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
There's something about going home.
Last week my sister and I went back to our hometown to take care of family business. She hadn't been there in quite a while, and every place we went she commented on how small things seemed. When you were a kid your grandmother's kitchen looked like the Taj Mahal, although in reality it was probably your normal run-of-the mill room. But what do you expect when you're only four feet tall. I haven't been a kid in a long, long time so I'm not sure why everything seemed a bit Lilliputian.
And that brings me to the delightful part of our trip. I was able to connect with several people I hadn't seen since high school. Catching up on the gossip was a ton of fun, and more than once my reaction was a resounding "You've got to be kidding!"
Since I write about small towns, it was great opportunity to stock up on stories about colorful characters. And believe me, small southern towns are a treasure trove of eccentric folks.
So, if you're thinking about going home - just remember that some things will feel so right, and others will feel like a tight pair of jeans - a wee bit tight and a tad uncomfortable.
Have a wonderful day.
Ann DeFee
And that brings me to the delightful part of our trip. I was able to connect with several people I hadn't seen since high school. Catching up on the gossip was a ton of fun, and more than once my reaction was a resounding "You've got to be kidding!"
Since I write about small towns, it was great opportunity to stock up on stories about colorful characters. And believe me, small southern towns are a treasure trove of eccentric folks.
So, if you're thinking about going home - just remember that some things will feel so right, and others will feel like a tight pair of jeans - a wee bit tight and a tad uncomfortable.
Have a wonderful day.
Ann DeFee
Monday, February 05, 2007
Accidents Happen
They say that when you cut your finger, your life is about to change. Well...
Last week we had guests over for dinner. I love to cook and was making a Greek dinner and a delicious hors d’oeuvre, a roasted eggplant spread (which is posted as my recipe of the month at www.annroth.net). I bought freshly baked bread for the spread. It needed slicing, so I set to work with a sharp bread knife. Everything was fine until the last slice. It was too thick. So I sliced in half—and sliced my finger, too. Nasty cut with lots of bleeding. My husband helped me bandage it and we went on with the dinner party. The next morning I changed the bandaid. Or rather my husband did for me—I’m way too squeamish. The cut looked terrible. “Baby, you’re gonna lose it,” my husband said. He’s never called me “baby” before and he meant my finger tip, so I knew this was serious. He took me straight to the emergency room. It was too late for stitches—you have to get in there pretty fast for those—so they gave me a butterfly bandage and a tetanus shot, since I couldn’t remember when I’d last had one. Now I have a huge gauze bandage on my finger. Good for garnering loads of attention, terrible for typing!
Lessons learned: practice safety when using a knife—make sure there are no fingers in the way. Bad cuts require immediate attention—careful cleaning and possibly stitches.
About those changes... so far, the only change is in my typing, which is better than it was ( have graduated to smaller bandages), but still slow and full of mistakes. Maybe the message is, slow down and take care. I’ll try, really I will.
Last week we had guests over for dinner. I love to cook and was making a Greek dinner and a delicious hors d’oeuvre, a roasted eggplant spread (which is posted as my recipe of the month at www.annroth.net). I bought freshly baked bread for the spread. It needed slicing, so I set to work with a sharp bread knife. Everything was fine until the last slice. It was too thick. So I sliced in half—and sliced my finger, too. Nasty cut with lots of bleeding. My husband helped me bandage it and we went on with the dinner party. The next morning I changed the bandaid. Or rather my husband did for me—I’m way too squeamish. The cut looked terrible. “Baby, you’re gonna lose it,” my husband said. He’s never called me “baby” before and he meant my finger tip, so I knew this was serious. He took me straight to the emergency room. It was too late for stitches—you have to get in there pretty fast for those—so they gave me a butterfly bandage and a tetanus shot, since I couldn’t remember when I’d last had one. Now I have a huge gauze bandage on my finger. Good for garnering loads of attention, terrible for typing!
Lessons learned: practice safety when using a knife—make sure there are no fingers in the way. Bad cuts require immediate attention—careful cleaning and possibly stitches.
About those changes... so far, the only change is in my typing, which is better than it was ( have graduated to smaller bandages), but still slow and full of mistakes. Maybe the message is, slow down and take care. I’ll try, really I will.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
"I met him at the candy store...."
Well, actually I didn't, but it seems like a good lead, if you're into retro and recognize the sentence. If you're not and you don't, I'll clue you in: it's a line from "Leader of the Pack," a real tearjerker and one of the saddest love songs I've ever heard. But we won't go there.
This is February, the month of valentines and chocolate, roses and romance--and, not to mention, my birthday. (smile) Which means I'm all about happy love today.
I write romance, so, naturally, I enjoyed the previous blog entry with the A-lists of locations for marriage proposals. Now I'd like to back up a step, to where it all began, and find the hot spots for meeting the man or woman of your dreams.
I'll go first.
New York City. Times Square. New Year's Eve. The ball is dropping and the crowd is caught up in a feverish chant. The man next to me turns and wraps his arms around me....
No—wait!
Paris. In springtime. The air is perfumed with flowers. Lovers stroll arm in arm as the sun sets in a violet haze. I'm all alone until the man approaching stops before me....
No. Try again.
This time, the truth:
A small town. September. The bowling alley. My turn. When my first attempt bounces into the gutter, the man at the next lane over laughs. I pin him with my steely-eyed gaze, then fire the next ball straight down the alley. Right into the pocket. Strike!
You gotta love a guy who brings out the best in you.
It took a while for us to get together, but—except for some literary embellishment (hey, I'm a writer!)—that's how I met my significant other AKA my husband and hero.
How did you meet yours?
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
This is February, the month of valentines and chocolate, roses and romance--and, not to mention, my birthday. (smile) Which means I'm all about happy love today.
I write romance, so, naturally, I enjoyed the previous blog entry with the A-lists of locations for marriage proposals. Now I'd like to back up a step, to where it all began, and find the hot spots for meeting the man or woman of your dreams.
I'll go first.
New York City. Times Square. New Year's Eve. The ball is dropping and the crowd is caught up in a feverish chant. The man next to me turns and wraps his arms around me....
No—wait!
Paris. In springtime. The air is perfumed with flowers. Lovers stroll arm in arm as the sun sets in a violet haze. I'm all alone until the man approaching stops before me....
No. Try again.
This time, the truth:
A small town. September. The bowling alley. My turn. When my first attempt bounces into the gutter, the man at the next lane over laughs. I pin him with my steely-eyed gaze, then fire the next ball straight down the alley. Right into the pocket. Strike!
You gotta love a guy who brings out the best in you.
It took a while for us to get together, but—except for some literary embellishment (hey, I'm a writer!)—that's how I met my significant other AKA my husband and hero.
How did you meet yours?
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
