Please welcome Ann DeFee author of eight Harlequin American Romances. Ann’s debut book was a double Rita finalist in 2006 and in 2008 she won a Book Buyer’s Best award.
How long have you been published?
My first book came out in July 2005 and with my February 2009 release that makes a grand total of eight. In addition I have Top Gun Dad slated for October 2009 and I’m working on a 2010 book.
What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?
Don’t get discouraged, keep learning your craft and submit. If you don’t send out your work it’s like wanting to win the lottery but not buying a ticket.
What's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?
Kidney pie at a B&B in Scotland. Or perhaps it was the mystery meat I had at a Samoan birthday party. I swear it looked like a pig leg, but that was debatable. Then there was the slimy stuff (it could have been fish or mammal, again not sure) I had at my son’s wedding reception in Copenhagen, Denmark.
What comes first: the plot or the characters?
Sometimes it’s the plot, sometimes it’s the characters. Honestly, it all seems to come out of the ether.
When you looked in the mirror this morning, what was the first thing you thought?
Wow! That hair would look right at home on Don King. It’s those curls, you know. They do whatever they want, whenever they want. LOL
What books or authors have most influenced your own writing?
Classics like Gone with the Wind and To Kill a Mockingbird are my favorites. As you can see I’m partial to southern literature.
What are you reading now? I’m into my Rita submissions. This year it’s a case of the good, the not quite so good and the ugly. But, the nice thing about judging the Rita contest is that I read books I probably wouldn’t normally buy.
Do you re-read your books once they're in print?
Nope – I already know how they end. LOL
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?
This is a shameless plug; my favorite (currently) is The Man She Married which is available in stores next week. You’ll love Maizie, the heroine. She’s been married twenty + years and her hubby’s spending way too much time watching sports, so she decides to make him jealous. Can you say “big oops.”
Do you hear from your readers much? What do they say?
I’ve had some very poignant and heartfelt letters. The readers make this all worthwhile.
Are you working on anything at the present you'd like to share? I’m working on The Glory Place, a story that takes place during two days of a revival preacher’s wake. It’s set in the Appalachians and features his daughter’s path to redemption.
Did you ever eat paste or Elmer's glue when you were a kid?
Are you kidding? I was more into Milky Ways and hot fudge sundaes.
What did you do career-wise before becoming an author? I’m a Certified Land Use Planner, and in that capacity I worked for a city managing real estate development projects.
What helps inspire you when you write? Do you have any ‘rituals’ (like music, candles, and a favorite scent) that helps you find your writing zone?
The thing that keeps me pecking at the keyboard is a deadline hovering over me like a vulture just waiting to pick my bones. Yew! Way too graphic.
What do you want to know about the future? This one is personal and very micro - when will I be able to sell my house? We’re in a real estate crisis, you know!
Can you taste the difference between Pepsi and Coke?
I could do that blindfolded.
If so, which do you prefer?
Coke
Have you ever made a crank phone call?
Haven’t we all? Don’t you remember the “is your refrigerator running” gag?
Who's you're personal hero--past or present?
As a group, I have to say our Founding Fathers. They had the courage of their convictions and they put their names on a document that would ensure the loss of their freedom and fortune if they ended up on the losing side. In my mind that takes incredible guts!
What is your dream car? That one’s easy – a black Porsche 911 Carrera.
If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?
The Holy Lands. When I was kid (as a Southern Baptist) I was convinced the Holy Lands were at least the size of Siberia. I mean really, how could folks get lost for 40 years is a place that was no bigger than a medium sized Texas county? What’s wrong with asking directions?
If you were locked in a closet for one hour who would you want in there with you? A locksmith or a professional burglar – anyone who pick the darned thing.
If you were stranded on a deserted Island what kind of hero would you want with you--A Cowboy, a Viking Warrior, a CEO, a Forensics investigator, a Chef or an Accountant…and why?
I would actually prefer a survival specialist (did I mention that my husband was the Director of Operations for the Air Force Survival Schools? He’s even spent the night in a igloo he built) but since that wasn’t one of the options I think I’d go for a cowboy. At least he’d know how to build a fire and roast some little critters.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Don’t let this happen to you!
Last week, it happened. My Mac Cube up and died. There were no signs until instead of booting up, the little question mark flashed at me. I rebooted, with the same scary results. The kind techies at the Apple Store (who oohed and aahed over the Cube and that fact that I used it relentlessly for NINE years) tried to resurrect the hard drive. No luck. Disaster!
Luckily, I backed up a lot of stuff on my laptop–through October, 2008. No photos though, and none of the recipes I collect. My flash drive had my current wip on it—up to the day before the meltdown, when for some reason, I failed to back up. I lost some edits, but one day’s edits isn’t so bad. (Though I swear, they were the best edits ever!)
Using my 2008 income/expense spreadsheet from my laptop, I easily recreated the 2009 version. Same with my email and address book. Still lost a bunch of stuff, though, including e-fan mail and the neat online reviews and promo stuff I saved.
I know better!
On the positive side, I bought a brand new iMac. Macs no longer come fully loaded with Microsoft Office, so I purchased that and a faster, sleeker printer. All that, yet the combined cost was $1300 LESS than what I paid for the Cube and printer in 2000. Pretty cool. And my new 20-inch screen is heaven! Also, this computer is much, much faster. All to the good.
In the near future, I’ll be buying a portable hard drive. They’re tiny (about the size of my hand) and worth the cost.
Don’t do what I did–back up everything at least weekly! You'll be so glad you did.
Until later and wishing you a healthy computer and a good backup system,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Ooh, Baby!
March RT Top Pick!
Luckily, I backed up a lot of stuff on my laptop–through October, 2008. No photos though, and none of the recipes I collect. My flash drive had my current wip on it—up to the day before the meltdown, when for some reason, I failed to back up. I lost some edits, but one day’s edits isn’t so bad. (Though I swear, they were the best edits ever!)
Using my 2008 income/expense spreadsheet from my laptop, I easily recreated the 2009 version. Same with my email and address book. Still lost a bunch of stuff, though, including e-fan mail and the neat online reviews and promo stuff I saved.
I know better!
On the positive side, I bought a brand new iMac. Macs no longer come fully loaded with Microsoft Office, so I purchased that and a faster, sleeker printer. All that, yet the combined cost was $1300 LESS than what I paid for the Cube and printer in 2000. Pretty cool. And my new 20-inch screen is heaven! Also, this computer is much, much faster. All to the good.
In the near future, I’ll be buying a portable hard drive. They’re tiny (about the size of my hand) and worth the cost.
Don’t do what I did–back up everything at least weekly! You'll be so glad you did.
Until later and wishing you a healthy computer and a good backup system,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Ooh, Baby!
March RT Top Pick!
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
The best of times, the worst of times...
I’m deep into the middle of revisions on the manuscript scheduled to become my third Harlequin American Romance. As many authors will no doubt tell you, this is both the best of times and the worst of times.
Best because we’ve got the story down on paper, the twists and turns plotted, the setting chosen, the characters brought to life.
Worst because now we have to “make it better.” To quote the members of one of my early critique groups, we must “take it home and fix it.”
This is when the struggle really begins!
We need to rewrite the book well enough to appease our internal critic/angel/mentor/mischievous child or whatever we may call the part of our subconscious that won’t allow us to rest until we’ve “fixed” everything in sight--and then some.
We need to please our editors, whose keen eyes, long memories, and years of experience make them our toughest critics and our greatest allies.
Most of all, we need to craft a story that will satisfy our loyal readers, who show their appreciation of our earlier works through cards and letters and e-mails and postings to message boards, as well as by spreading the word about our books to all their friends.
You see why I’m living the best of times and the worst of times, all wrapped into one? The pressure’s on! (smile)
Now you know what I’m going through, if you have any urge at all to send good thoughts my way, please do--I’m ready and eager to read them!
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com
Best because we’ve got the story down on paper, the twists and turns plotted, the setting chosen, the characters brought to life.
Worst because now we have to “make it better.” To quote the members of one of my early critique groups, we must “take it home and fix it.”
This is when the struggle really begins!
We need to rewrite the book well enough to appease our internal critic/angel/mentor/mischievous child or whatever we may call the part of our subconscious that won’t allow us to rest until we’ve “fixed” everything in sight--and then some.
We need to please our editors, whose keen eyes, long memories, and years of experience make them our toughest critics and our greatest allies.
Most of all, we need to craft a story that will satisfy our loyal readers, who show their appreciation of our earlier works through cards and letters and e-mails and postings to message boards, as well as by spreading the word about our books to all their friends.
You see why I’m living the best of times and the worst of times, all wrapped into one? The pressure’s on! (smile)
Now you know what I’m going through, if you have any urge at all to send good thoughts my way, please do--I’m ready and eager to read them!
All my best to you,
Barbara
~~~~~~
Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
The Driver's Test
On Thursday, my daughter will turn sixteen. I’m letting her sleep in a little late, will take her out for pancakes, and then we'll make the thirty minute drive to the driver’s license bureau.
After she takes her driver’s test, I’ll shuttle her to school. From that point on, I have a feeling the rest of the day will either be all smiles and happiness, or filled with tears and angst.
Yes, the stress of the upcoming test has overshadowed everything else. I think she’s in good company.
Do you remember when you took your driver's test? I sure do. It was my dad's job to take us to the Texas Department of Public Safety. He was a busy guy, and I remember standing in line next to him in his suit, a bundle of nerves.
We waited in line for what seemed like forever. My dad, who believed girls looked their best in heels and dresses, sought to lighten the mood by teasing me about the highway patrol officers. See, there were four patrol officers there, two men and two women. One of the female officers never smiled at anyone. She was at least six feet tall. Blond and brawny. Tough. She looked exactly like the type of person you'd want to come to your rescue if you were getting mugged.
To my sixteen-year-old eyes, she looked like exactly the wrong person to sit next to when attempting to parallel park. My dad-never one to be accused of being politically correct-called her Ms. Big.
Finally, after standing in line for over an hour, my turn came up. I was directed to walk to my car, and to wait for the officer there. My dad walked me to my spot. Gave me a hug and wished me good luck. And then he looked at the officer and grimaced.
Yep, you guessed it. There was Ms. Big with a clipboard in her hands and a giant scowl on her face. I thought I was going to throw up.
We got in. I put on my seat belt. "Insurance?"
"Pardon me?"
She glared. "Insurance?"
That's when my throat went dry. I pointed to my dad, who was standing on the sidewalk in front of us, kind of giving me a thumb's up. "My dad has it."
That was the wrong answer. Ms. Big frowned. "It's supposed to be in here. With you."
And that's when she wrote me a ticket.
I am the only person I know who somehow managed to get ticketed during a driver's exam. After she signed the ticket with flair, she rolled down her window, signalled my dad over, and barked at him to hand over the insurance card.
Until that moment, I had never seen anybody order my dad around! To my shock, he pulled out his wallet, fished out the card, and handed it to her without a word.
Up went her window. Out went the next command. "Drive."
I did! And, somehow, I passed my driver's test. Twenty minutes later, I was walking back to my dad, holding two sheets of paper. One had my test score on it. The other was a fifty dollar ticket.
I sincerely hope my daughter's experience will be far less eventful. Or, maybe not. My dad and I laughed about that test for years. And, well, it is a pretty good story.
Anyone else recall their driver's exam?
Shelley
After she takes her driver’s test, I’ll shuttle her to school. From that point on, I have a feeling the rest of the day will either be all smiles and happiness, or filled with tears and angst.
Yes, the stress of the upcoming test has overshadowed everything else. I think she’s in good company.
Do you remember when you took your driver's test? I sure do. It was my dad's job to take us to the Texas Department of Public Safety. He was a busy guy, and I remember standing in line next to him in his suit, a bundle of nerves.
We waited in line for what seemed like forever. My dad, who believed girls looked their best in heels and dresses, sought to lighten the mood by teasing me about the highway patrol officers. See, there were four patrol officers there, two men and two women. One of the female officers never smiled at anyone. She was at least six feet tall. Blond and brawny. Tough. She looked exactly like the type of person you'd want to come to your rescue if you were getting mugged.
To my sixteen-year-old eyes, she looked like exactly the wrong person to sit next to when attempting to parallel park. My dad-never one to be accused of being politically correct-called her Ms. Big.
Finally, after standing in line for over an hour, my turn came up. I was directed to walk to my car, and to wait for the officer there. My dad walked me to my spot. Gave me a hug and wished me good luck. And then he looked at the officer and grimaced.
Yep, you guessed it. There was Ms. Big with a clipboard in her hands and a giant scowl on her face. I thought I was going to throw up.
We got in. I put on my seat belt. "Insurance?"
"Pardon me?"
She glared. "Insurance?"
That's when my throat went dry. I pointed to my dad, who was standing on the sidewalk in front of us, kind of giving me a thumb's up. "My dad has it."
That was the wrong answer. Ms. Big frowned. "It's supposed to be in here. With you."
And that's when she wrote me a ticket.
I am the only person I know who somehow managed to get ticketed during a driver's exam. After she signed the ticket with flair, she rolled down her window, signalled my dad over, and barked at him to hand over the insurance card.
Until that moment, I had never seen anybody order my dad around! To my shock, he pulled out his wallet, fished out the card, and handed it to her without a word.
Up went her window. Out went the next command. "Drive."
I did! And, somehow, I passed my driver's test. Twenty minutes later, I was walking back to my dad, holding two sheets of paper. One had my test score on it. The other was a fifty dollar ticket.
I sincerely hope my daughter's experience will be far less eventful. Or, maybe not. My dad and I laughed about that test for years. And, well, it is a pretty good story.
Anyone else recall their driver's exam?
Shelley
Monday, February 02, 2009
JANUARY WINNER!!!!!
CONGRATULATIONS Joey Hill! You’re the January winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Jackie Diamond, Shelley Galloway and Lisa Ruff through their Web sites.
To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Simple and painless. And FREE BOOKS.
So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!
To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Simple and painless. And FREE BOOKS.
So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Go on ... lie to me
Some TV shows make me feel downright inadequate.
I don’t mean the ones with gorgeous young women whose professionally made-up faces and toned bodies set standards hardly anyone can match. Having written about TV and theater for The Associate Press in LA, I’ve seen how quickly the latest hottie can fade, and how life deals blows even to those who appear to live charmed lives.
They have my best wishes, not my envy. After all, I’ve been happily married for 30 years and have two great sons and an interesting career. That’s as much as anyone could ask.
No, it’s the whole Sherlock Holmes business that’s got me down. You know what I mean – the crime solvers with an almost magical gift for detection.
CSI isn't my problem. Those detectives have crime labs and gizmos aplenty. No one expects an ordinary person to match that.
But take the CBS series The Mentalist, whose protagonist draws brilliant conclusions from obscure evidence just like Sherlock used to do. As someone who’s written murder mysteries with twists on top of twists (as you’ll know if you’ve read my Harlequin Intrigues The Stolen Bride or And the Bride Vanishes), I feel as if I ought to be able to match Patrick Jane at least partway. But still the show fools me. (Well, sometimes.)
Things have gotten even worse with the new series Lie to Me on TNT. I don’t mean that it’s a bad series; quite the contrary. I’ve enjoyed the episodes so far. The thing is, the hero “reads” people. He knows whether they’re lying and dopes out complex and unexpected truths.
I’ve always had a knack for picking up emotions. At a social event, I can often tell from body language who’s been quarreling, who’s consumed by worry and who’s nursing a grudge. When someone tries to manipulate me, such as a salesman or a religious zealot, his tone of voice chafes my nerves. I can’t even hear what he’s saying, because his true intent rings so loud.
But this can’t-lie-to-me guy has it all down to a science. A character makes a statement, then folds his arms and steps back, and the hero points out that the fellow’s literally retreating from his position as if he doesn’t believe his own words. To reinforce the point, we’re shown newsreel footage of former President Nixon declaring “I am not a crook,” and then, yes, taking a step back and folding his arms. Right on target.
Yes, I knew (thanks to a seminar at a Romance Writers of America convention) that law-enforcement folks get trained to recognize certain telltale gestures and expressions, but I always figured I was a natural. Well, guess what? I may be a natural, but I’m not that good.
Still, it’s fun to enjoy TV’s fictional worlds in which heroes and heroines, with the help of scriptwriters, solve all the puzzles. I guess being a writer trumps being a detective, at least when it comes to sniffing out a happy ending.
I don’t mean the ones with gorgeous young women whose professionally made-up faces and toned bodies set standards hardly anyone can match. Having written about TV and theater for The Associate Press in LA, I’ve seen how quickly the latest hottie can fade, and how life deals blows even to those who appear to live charmed lives.
They have my best wishes, not my envy. After all, I’ve been happily married for 30 years and have two great sons and an interesting career. That’s as much as anyone could ask.
No, it’s the whole Sherlock Holmes business that’s got me down. You know what I mean – the crime solvers with an almost magical gift for detection.
CSI isn't my problem. Those detectives have crime labs and gizmos aplenty. No one expects an ordinary person to match that.
But take the CBS series The Mentalist, whose protagonist draws brilliant conclusions from obscure evidence just like Sherlock used to do. As someone who’s written murder mysteries with twists on top of twists (as you’ll know if you’ve read my Harlequin Intrigues The Stolen Bride or And the Bride Vanishes), I feel as if I ought to be able to match Patrick Jane at least partway. But still the show fools me. (Well, sometimes.)
Things have gotten even worse with the new series Lie to Me on TNT. I don’t mean that it’s a bad series; quite the contrary. I’ve enjoyed the episodes so far. The thing is, the hero “reads” people. He knows whether they’re lying and dopes out complex and unexpected truths.
I’ve always had a knack for picking up emotions. At a social event, I can often tell from body language who’s been quarreling, who’s consumed by worry and who’s nursing a grudge. When someone tries to manipulate me, such as a salesman or a religious zealot, his tone of voice chafes my nerves. I can’t even hear what he’s saying, because his true intent rings so loud.
But this can’t-lie-to-me guy has it all down to a science. A character makes a statement, then folds his arms and steps back, and the hero points out that the fellow’s literally retreating from his position as if he doesn’t believe his own words. To reinforce the point, we’re shown newsreel footage of former President Nixon declaring “I am not a crook,” and then, yes, taking a step back and folding his arms. Right on target.
Yes, I knew (thanks to a seminar at a Romance Writers of America convention) that law-enforcement folks get trained to recognize certain telltale gestures and expressions, but I always figured I was a natural. Well, guess what? I may be a natural, but I’m not that good.
Still, it’s fun to enjoy TV’s fictional worlds in which heroes and heroines, with the help of scriptwriters, solve all the puzzles. I guess being a writer trumps being a detective, at least when it comes to sniffing out a happy ending.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Ready for Spring
I'm one of those people who hates the dark days and gray colors of winter. As I write this on the 28th, two days before my blog will post, my yard is covered in six inches of white snow and the sun is shining. So everything is bright. I'm waiting for my neighbor to come take his tractor and dig me out--but he's going right on by. (His wife will remind him.) Until then, my yard is pristine and smooth, marring one set of deer tracks. I'd show you a picture, but all my cameras are at work--which is closed. There's no way I can dig out this driveway. I've done it before and didn't love any of it.
I live in the country on five acres, which I love. I'm surrounded by an 11 acre horse farm, and 26 acres of land that no one uses and really can't be developed. So at most I might see one more house. The only time life out here is trying and somewhat annoying is during the winter, but no one expects to go anywhere so it's usually okay. So far we've been off for 2 snow days, and my district where I teaach has used a total of four. The school district I live in has been off for 5.
While I get tired of drab winter pretty quickly, I like Missouri. For the most part we have all four seasons, although we can have them all in one week, and some years it seems like we skip spring. Hopefully this March I'll be back at work on my current project--clearing out the brush and extra trees that block my view of the pond. When I moved in you couldn't see anything at all, just a sliver. Now this is the view once you get to the edge of the grass part of my backyard. This project is going on about three years now, depending on extra $$, time, that sort of thing.
Lastly, since I'm sharing photos, my feral outdoor cat, who adopted us and who we've called Doofy, is finally out of his igloo and braving the snow. He's spent the last two days battened down. He's my sweetheart, although he wasn't happy to spend two nights in my garage when it got to -17 one night. But I want him around for another year.
I live in the country on five acres, which I love. I'm surrounded by an 11 acre horse farm, and 26 acres of land that no one uses and really can't be developed. So at most I might see one more house. The only time life out here is trying and somewhat annoying is during the winter, but no one expects to go anywhere so it's usually okay. So far we've been off for 2 snow days, and my district where I teaach has used a total of four. The school district I live in has been off for 5.
While I get tired of drab winter pretty quickly, I like Missouri. For the most part we have all four seasons, although we can have them all in one week, and some years it seems like we skip spring. Hopefully this March I'll be back at work on my current project--clearing out the brush and extra trees that block my view of the pond. When I moved in you couldn't see anything at all, just a sliver. Now this is the view once you get to the edge of the grass part of my backyard. This project is going on about three years now, depending on extra $$, time, that sort of thing.
Lastly, since I'm sharing photos, my feral outdoor cat, who adopted us and who we've called Doofy, is finally out of his igloo and braving the snow. He's spent the last two days battened down. He's my sweetheart, although he wasn't happy to spend two nights in my garage when it got to -17 one night. But I want him around for another year.
Everyone have a great end to January, and be safe and warm.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Through a Visitor's Eyes
About three years ago, my stepson decided to move to Australia. Strange decision, coming from a kid who previously couldn't move himself far enough to attend college classes. Turns out there was a girl involved. He met her on the Internet.
Could have ended in disaster. But instead, Nick and Dani fell in love. He lives with her and her grandmother in an Adelaide suburb. She's a zoology grad student and he's in college (actually attending this time) studying psychology. They are both on summer break from school and have come to America to visit for a few weeks.
It's Dani's first trip to America, and it's been a great deal of fun to experience our country through a visitor's eyes. Of course, being curious types, my husband and I pepper the poor girl for her impressions.
Several things stand out in her mind. The terrible traffic and the huge, multi-lane freeways are alien to her. Super Walmarts and gigantic shopping malls are overwhelming. Then there's the weather. Since she hit Texas, she's been hit with temperatures ranging from the 20s to the 80s. She's had snow, sleet, ice and hail, rain and wind and heat.
Despite all that, she likes it here, or at least she says she does! But the thing that has made the biggest impression on her?
Squirrels.
No squirrels in Australia. She finds it freaky-cool that they're everywhere, in the yard and on the roof and running in the streets, and that you can get so close to them. She thinks they're very cute. (Clearly she's never experienced them chewing holes in her house or emptying her bird feeders!)
In a couple of weeks, Nick and Dani are headed for California and Disneyland, the quintessential American tourist experience. I imagine squirrels will fade into the background then.
Could have ended in disaster. But instead, Nick and Dani fell in love. He lives with her and her grandmother in an Adelaide suburb. She's a zoology grad student and he's in college (actually attending this time) studying psychology. They are both on summer break from school and have come to America to visit for a few weeks.
It's Dani's first trip to America, and it's been a great deal of fun to experience our country through a visitor's eyes. Of course, being curious types, my husband and I pepper the poor girl for her impressions.
Several things stand out in her mind. The terrible traffic and the huge, multi-lane freeways are alien to her. Super Walmarts and gigantic shopping malls are overwhelming. Then there's the weather. Since she hit Texas, she's been hit with temperatures ranging from the 20s to the 80s. She's had snow, sleet, ice and hail, rain and wind and heat.
Despite all that, she likes it here, or at least she says she does! But the thing that has made the biggest impression on her?
Squirrels.
No squirrels in Australia. She finds it freaky-cool that they're everywhere, in the yard and on the roof and running in the streets, and that you can get so close to them. She thinks they're very cute. (Clearly she's never experienced them chewing holes in her house or emptying her bird feeders!)
In a couple of weeks, Nick and Dani are headed for California and Disneyland, the quintessential American tourist experience. I imagine squirrels will fade into the background then.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Viewpoint and Perspective
If reading and writing books are among my top two pasttimes, a close third would probably be talking about books (and how to write them) with others. I had great fun last Saturday teaching a workshop about Point of View and how important POV is in a story. I want, as an author, to really bring my character's perspective to life, to help the reader relate to what that character is going through, why that character is behaving a certain way, and to more fully bring that character's world into three dimensional life for the audience.
And the fact of the matter is, learning to see things through another person's perspective is a great skill to have in life, not just in building my stories. I am reminded of my mother-in-law and The Soup.
My husband grew up in a very small town (no bookstores, the horrors!) in an insular family. They've all stayed pretty close to home. Except then he married me and not only did we move several states away, we don't even live in the same time zone! Not long after we married, his parents drove to see us and I was nervous. My husband and I come from very different cultural backgrounds and I wasn't sure what my in-laws would think of their daughter-in-law, the Aspiring Romance Author. The day we expected them to arrive, I spent hours slaving over a meal I hoped would impress them. I wanted them to know I was trying to take loving care of my new husband.
When my father in law knocked on our door, my M-i-L stood behind him with a vat of homemade soup (she not only makes her own stock, she makes her own noodles) that she had transported cross country. It was her son's favorite she explained and she'd brought it just for him, so we could warm it up for dinner. My husband asked if we couldn't accomodate her and reheat my efforts the next night, and I felt crushed.
In fact, I may have--deep down, you understand--harbored the tiniest smidge of resentment when, every visit afterward, she brought along homemade noodles and told me just to let her know which night we wanted to have soup for dinner. Well, less resentment and more relief two years ago, when they visited us in the dead of winter and I caught a bad cold and the sheer volume of peppercorns she adds to that soup gave me the only five minutes of clear breathing I had all day! I decided then I could learn to love the soup, which has always been a family tradition for them and now, a gentle source of amusement between us.
This fall, I watched my little boy walk into public school for the first time--it looks so BIG and he looks so TINY among the much taller third, fourth and fifth graders. And I suddenly had a clearer perspective on what it's like, as a mother, to let go of a son--whether it's watching him start school or the much more daunting task of seeing him marry and move away.
It's cold and rainy today, the kind of weather that makes one feel introspective and melancholoy, and to tell you the truth, I could really use a steaming bowl of that lovingly made soup.
And the fact of the matter is, learning to see things through another person's perspective is a great skill to have in life, not just in building my stories. I am reminded of my mother-in-law and The Soup.
My husband grew up in a very small town (no bookstores, the horrors!) in an insular family. They've all stayed pretty close to home. Except then he married me and not only did we move several states away, we don't even live in the same time zone! Not long after we married, his parents drove to see us and I was nervous. My husband and I come from very different cultural backgrounds and I wasn't sure what my in-laws would think of their daughter-in-law, the Aspiring Romance Author. The day we expected them to arrive, I spent hours slaving over a meal I hoped would impress them. I wanted them to know I was trying to take loving care of my new husband.
When my father in law knocked on our door, my M-i-L stood behind him with a vat of homemade soup (she not only makes her own stock, she makes her own noodles) that she had transported cross country. It was her son's favorite she explained and she'd brought it just for him, so we could warm it up for dinner. My husband asked if we couldn't accomodate her and reheat my efforts the next night, and I felt crushed.
In fact, I may have--deep down, you understand--harbored the tiniest smidge of resentment when, every visit afterward, she brought along homemade noodles and told me just to let her know which night we wanted to have soup for dinner. Well, less resentment and more relief two years ago, when they visited us in the dead of winter and I caught a bad cold and the sheer volume of peppercorns she adds to that soup gave me the only five minutes of clear breathing I had all day! I decided then I could learn to love the soup, which has always been a family tradition for them and now, a gentle source of amusement between us.
This fall, I watched my little boy walk into public school for the first time--it looks so BIG and he looks so TINY among the much taller third, fourth and fifth graders. And I suddenly had a clearer perspective on what it's like, as a mother, to let go of a son--whether it's watching him start school or the much more daunting task of seeing him marry and move away.
It's cold and rainy today, the kind of weather that makes one feel introspective and melancholoy, and to tell you the truth, I could really use a steaming bowl of that lovingly made soup.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Author Interview with Judy Christenberry
Please welcome one of Harlequin American's most popular authors Judy Christenberry. Along with writing several best-selling series for the American Romance line Judy also pens cowboy stories for Harlequin Romance.
How long have you been published?
Twenty years as of 2008
What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?
Write. That’s the most important thing. You may not like what you write, but that’s the building blocks to everything. Your couple can’t have a happy ending if you don’t get to the end.
What's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?
I don’t eat strange things! Nothing that swims, and I don’t write about vegetarians or other eating habits I don’t understand.
What comes first: the plot or the characters?
I don’t do characters sketches for my hero and heroine. Once I establish them, I try to stay consistent.
Do you ever suffer from writer's block? If so, what do you do about it?
No, I’ve always had deadlines and I never had time for writer’s block. Usually, if I know where the book is going, I can keep on writing.
What books or authors have most influenced your own writing?
I loved reading Zane Gray, but I was always frustrated about the romance. Now I write about cowboys who have a believable romance. Georgette Heyer was a big influence on my regency romances, and Nora Roberts, because her characters always come to life for me.
Do you re-read your books once they're in print?
Always
What is your work schedule like when you are writing?
I write about a chapter a day, which is sixteen pages. I usually write four days a week, although sometimes more if I need to. Since I write for two lines, Harlequin American Romance and Harlequin Romance, sometimes the deadlines can be very close together.
How many books have you written?
85 for Harlequin, and 10 for other publishers
Which is your favorite?
The Lemon Cake, my first Regency romance for Harlequin. When the editor said she only wanted me to change two things – a description of an aunt and one other minor detail – I was thrilled. It was a difficult book to write but easy to get to print.
What did you do career-wise before becoming an author?
I taught high school French for twelve years in Highland Park, Texas, and before that I taught eight years in middle school.
How has the American Romance line changed since you first began writing for it?
The first thing I learned when I sold to American was that good heroines don’t cry very often. Unlike real people, they can’t be emotional watering buckets. When my editor told me she wanted humor, I was relieved. I could write humorous scenes that people could really enjoy reading. After I wrote my first Randall book, my editor told me that although she didn’t like cowboys very much, they really sold well, so that’s what she wanted me to write.
Who's you're personal hero--past or present?
Many of my books are based on my late father. Not only did he have great integrity, but he was an outdoorsman and a firefighter. He was raised on a farm in East Texas.
If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?
I’d love to go back to Wyoming. The only time I went there I visited the small town I based my Christmas book on. The actual town was very different, much more rural and smaller than I’d imagined. Now I make up all my towns.
If you were locked in a closet for one hour who would you want in there with you
Someone with a flashlight, so I could read!
If you were stranded on a deserted Island what kind of hero would you want with you--A Cowboy, a Viking Warrior, a CEO, a Forensics investigator, a Chef or an Accountant?
A cowboy, of course!
Judy
www.judychristenberry.com
How long have you been published?
Twenty years as of 2008
What advice would you give a new writer just starting out?
Write. That’s the most important thing. You may not like what you write, but that’s the building blocks to everything. Your couple can’t have a happy ending if you don’t get to the end.
What's the strangest thing you've ever eaten?
I don’t eat strange things! Nothing that swims, and I don’t write about vegetarians or other eating habits I don’t understand.
What comes first: the plot or the characters?
I don’t do characters sketches for my hero and heroine. Once I establish them, I try to stay consistent.
Do you ever suffer from writer's block? If so, what do you do about it?
No, I’ve always had deadlines and I never had time for writer’s block. Usually, if I know where the book is going, I can keep on writing.
What books or authors have most influenced your own writing?
I loved reading Zane Gray, but I was always frustrated about the romance. Now I write about cowboys who have a believable romance. Georgette Heyer was a big influence on my regency romances, and Nora Roberts, because her characters always come to life for me.
Do you re-read your books once they're in print?
Always
What is your work schedule like when you are writing?
I write about a chapter a day, which is sixteen pages. I usually write four days a week, although sometimes more if I need to. Since I write for two lines, Harlequin American Romance and Harlequin Romance, sometimes the deadlines can be very close together.
How many books have you written?
85 for Harlequin, and 10 for other publishers
Which is your favorite?
The Lemon Cake, my first Regency romance for Harlequin. When the editor said she only wanted me to change two things – a description of an aunt and one other minor detail – I was thrilled. It was a difficult book to write but easy to get to print.
What did you do career-wise before becoming an author?
I taught high school French for twelve years in Highland Park, Texas, and before that I taught eight years in middle school.
How has the American Romance line changed since you first began writing for it?
The first thing I learned when I sold to American was that good heroines don’t cry very often. Unlike real people, they can’t be emotional watering buckets. When my editor told me she wanted humor, I was relieved. I could write humorous scenes that people could really enjoy reading. After I wrote my first Randall book, my editor told me that although she didn’t like cowboys very much, they really sold well, so that’s what she wanted me to write.
Who's you're personal hero--past or present?
Many of my books are based on my late father. Not only did he have great integrity, but he was an outdoorsman and a firefighter. He was raised on a farm in East Texas.
If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?
I’d love to go back to Wyoming. The only time I went there I visited the small town I based my Christmas book on. The actual town was very different, much more rural and smaller than I’d imagined. Now I make up all my towns.
If you were locked in a closet for one hour who would you want in there with you
Someone with a flashlight, so I could read!
If you were stranded on a deserted Island what kind of hero would you want with you--A Cowboy, a Viking Warrior, a CEO, a Forensics investigator, a Chef or an Accountant?
A cowboy, of course!
Judy
www.judychristenberry.com
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Who in the World Is Luke Song?
Imagine working at a job you love and doing it well. Many people don’t get to experience that satisfaction, so those of us who do are very lucky.
But now imagine that you suddenly and unexpectedly receive international recognition for what you already love doing. It’s something many of us dream of, and it’s wonderful to hear about it actually happening to someone. After all, if it can happen for them, then maybe it can happen for us.
Take Luke Song, a Detroit milliner/hat designer. For him, this Monday was probably just like most days in the life of a hat designer. On Tuesday, when Aretha Franklin took her place at the inaugural podium, the eyes of the world were riveted, not on her but on her hat. Whether you love it or not, there’s no denying the hat is an attention grabber.
That creation was designed by Luke Song, whose family business, Mr. Song Millinery, has been making hats for several decades. This week, thanks to Ms. Franklin, everything came together at just the right time and place, and he became fashion industry icon.
According to the Detroit Free Press, “By Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Song had sold hundreds of hats. A store in Dallas had sold 500 more, and the material was running out. ‘People are calling from England, asking for the hat,’ said Luke Song, who designed Franklin's chapeau. ‘I'm shocked. I had no idea. We did not expect this.’ ”
Wow.
And then there’s the US Airways pilot who landed his disabled aircraft in the Hudson River last week. I’m guessing that Captain Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger III has always been an outstanding pilot, admired and respected by his family, friends and colleagues, but most of his passengers would only have known his voice as he welcomed them aboard and hoped they had a pleasant flight. Now he’s a hero—the pilot we all want in the cockpit the next time we fasten our seatbelts and ensure that our seatbacks are in the upright position.
How does a person handle being catapulted into the limelight after working in relative obscurity?
If you’re Luke Song, you immediately get to work on an entire line of bow-inspired hats and plan to display them at the Women’s Wear in Nevada trade show in Las Vegas next month.
If you’re Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger III (isn’t that an absolutely perfect name?), I imagine the talk show hosts are clamoring for a chance to interview you, and I’ll bet there’s a good chance there’ll be a book deal, and maybe even a movie.
The stuff dreams are made of, right? So here’s a question. If your dream comes true tomorrow, are you ready to make the most of it?
Switching topics, Winter Peck, an aspiring Christian romantic suspense author, is holding a Valentine’s book giveaway on her blog. Among the prizes are four Harlequin American Romances:
Happy reading, and keep on dreaming!
Lee
Lee’s blog
Lee’s website
But now imagine that you suddenly and unexpectedly receive international recognition for what you already love doing. It’s something many of us dream of, and it’s wonderful to hear about it actually happening to someone. After all, if it can happen for them, then maybe it can happen for us.
Take Luke Song, a Detroit milliner/hat designer. For him, this Monday was probably just like most days in the life of a hat designer. On Tuesday, when Aretha Franklin took her place at the inaugural podium, the eyes of the world were riveted, not on her but on her hat. Whether you love it or not, there’s no denying the hat is an attention grabber.That creation was designed by Luke Song, whose family business, Mr. Song Millinery, has been making hats for several decades. This week, thanks to Ms. Franklin, everything came together at just the right time and place, and he became fashion industry icon.
According to the Detroit Free Press, “By Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Song had sold hundreds of hats. A store in Dallas had sold 500 more, and the material was running out. ‘People are calling from England, asking for the hat,’ said Luke Song, who designed Franklin's chapeau. ‘I'm shocked. I had no idea. We did not expect this.’ ”
Wow.
And then there’s the US Airways pilot who landed his disabled aircraft in the Hudson River last week. I’m guessing that Captain Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger III has always been an outstanding pilot, admired and respected by his family, friends and colleagues, but most of his passengers would only have known his voice as he welcomed them aboard and hoped they had a pleasant flight. Now he’s a hero—the pilot we all want in the cockpit the next time we fasten our seatbelts and ensure that our seatbacks are in the upright position.How does a person handle being catapulted into the limelight after working in relative obscurity?
If you’re Luke Song, you immediately get to work on an entire line of bow-inspired hats and plan to display them at the Women’s Wear in Nevada trade show in Las Vegas next month.
If you’re Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger III (isn’t that an absolutely perfect name?), I imagine the talk show hosts are clamoring for a chance to interview you, and I’ll bet there’s a good chance there’ll be a book deal, and maybe even a movie.
The stuff dreams are made of, right? So here’s a question. If your dream comes true tomorrow, are you ready to make the most of it?
~~~
Switching topics, Winter Peck, an aspiring Christian romantic suspense author, is holding a Valentine’s book giveaway on her blog. Among the prizes are four Harlequin American Romances:
The Good Mother by Shelley GallowayFor a chance to win, drop by her blog and post a comment. Then check back on February 14 when she announces the winners!
Marriage on Her Mind by Cindi Myers
Temporarily Texan by Victoria Chancellor
The Man for Maggie by Lee McKenzie
Happy reading, and keep on dreaming!
Lee
Lee’s blog
Lee’s website
Friday, January 23, 2009
Reality TV Isn't All Fluff and Nonsense
Okay, I admit to being a fan of reality television. SOME reality television. I don't watch every show that comes down the pike. But startling in January, I'm glued to the TV on Tuesdays and Wednesdays as the latest batch of American Idol contestants vie for the title. I've also been known to watch America's Next Top Model (I blame my teenaged daughter for this one), Project Runway, and So You Think You Can Dance.
A new VH1 reality show caught my eye recently: Confessions of a Teen Idol. I admit to watching the first episode of this show because back in the day, I was crushing hard on a couple of these guys and was interested to see how they turned out. The show isn't at all what I expected and has, frankly, surprised me with its intelligence and emotional depth. I find myself relating to these "has-beens" who are trying to figure out if they have what it takes to make a comeback and if they're really ready to make the sacrifices required of them for that all elusive fame. Why do I relate? Because their journey isn't unlike that of a writer seeking publication.
As I said, these guys have to make sacrifices to achieve their dream, some of the sacrifices are big ones. Name me one writer, published or not, who hasn't given up something important – like money, time, and family obligations – to write or attend a conference or enter a contest or take a class. What's the old saying? Nothing worthwhile is easy.
These guys are also putting themself out there each week, opening themselves up to frequently painful criticisms and critiques. They know if they are going to make it in the industry, they will have to develop, or in their cases, re-develop, thick skins. Don't we writers do that as well? We enter contests and receive harsh comments from judges. We get rejection letters by the barrel. We endure cutting and cruel reviews or posts on blogsites, trashing our books. It hurts. But we do for the glory of being published.
This past week, the seven guys were sent out on an audition for a hair product commercial. Three of them refused the opportunity, citing that commercials were basically beneath them. The other four did audition, realizing that at this stage in their careers , they weren't in any position to be choosy about what roles they took. Afterwards, one of them was awarded the part. He was ecstatic, and I was ecstatic for him. From small successes we can build bigger ones. I have basically conducted my entire writing career using this stepping stone method. It's served me well so far, and I hope it will eventually lead me to the top of the hill.
The four guys who auditioned didn't let their egos get in the way of their ambitions, and I predict they will each make some sort of comeback. I also believe writers have to do the same to be successful. We have to think we're good enough, or we have the courage needed to mail off that first submission. But we also can't afford to be prima donas. At least, not in the early stages of our careers or, like these guys, when we're on the downside of our careers.
Yeah, it's true. Another reason I like watching the show is because these guys still look good for their ages. Hotness isn't restricted to youth (grin!).
Go reality television!!
Cathy Mc
A new VH1 reality show caught my eye recently: Confessions of a Teen Idol. I admit to watching the first episode of this show because back in the day, I was crushing hard on a couple of these guys and was interested to see how they turned out. The show isn't at all what I expected and has, frankly, surprised me with its intelligence and emotional depth. I find myself relating to these "has-beens" who are trying to figure out if they have what it takes to make a comeback and if they're really ready to make the sacrifices required of them for that all elusive fame. Why do I relate? Because their journey isn't unlike that of a writer seeking publication.
As I said, these guys have to make sacrifices to achieve their dream, some of the sacrifices are big ones. Name me one writer, published or not, who hasn't given up something important – like money, time, and family obligations – to write or attend a conference or enter a contest or take a class. What's the old saying? Nothing worthwhile is easy.
These guys are also putting themself out there each week, opening themselves up to frequently painful criticisms and critiques. They know if they are going to make it in the industry, they will have to develop, or in their cases, re-develop, thick skins. Don't we writers do that as well? We enter contests and receive harsh comments from judges. We get rejection letters by the barrel. We endure cutting and cruel reviews or posts on blogsites, trashing our books. It hurts. But we do for the glory of being published.
This past week, the seven guys were sent out on an audition for a hair product commercial. Three of them refused the opportunity, citing that commercials were basically beneath them. The other four did audition, realizing that at this stage in their careers , they weren't in any position to be choosy about what roles they took. Afterwards, one of them was awarded the part. He was ecstatic, and I was ecstatic for him. From small successes we can build bigger ones. I have basically conducted my entire writing career using this stepping stone method. It's served me well so far, and I hope it will eventually lead me to the top of the hill.
The four guys who auditioned didn't let their egos get in the way of their ambitions, and I predict they will each make some sort of comeback. I also believe writers have to do the same to be successful. We have to think we're good enough, or we have the courage needed to mail off that first submission. But we also can't afford to be prima donas. At least, not in the early stages of our careers or, like these guys, when we're on the downside of our careers.
Yeah, it's true. Another reason I like watching the show is because these guys still look good for their ages. Hotness isn't restricted to youth (grin!).
Go reality television!!
Cathy Mc
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I'm a Spider Addict
They say the first thing you have to do to get well is admit your addiction. Okay, here goes. I’m addicted to Spider Solitaire. The difficult version, that is, the one played with all four suits. I’ve won over 378 games, and have a high score of 1110. Of course, these stats are probably higher—I reset them the last time I hit 500 games. I can beat the easy level in 95 moves, my best being 90.
Spider Solitaire comes free with Windows XP, but I had it even before that. My daughters like to play, but they cannot stand how I can win and they can’t. My ex husband couldn’t win either, but I’m a guru.
Spider has taken over everything. I used to play Free Cell and was good, but once I found Spider Solitaire, Free Cell was a goner. It didn’t have the challenges or the excitement. Minesweeper is also fun, and my best time on the easy level is 14 seconds. But Minesweeper gets boring, not to mention noisy when I blow up.
I think that my ability to play Spider Solitaire goes back to playing games of Double Solitaire with my stepsister. I’m not sure exactly how you play anymore, but you take two decks of cards and the goal is to clear suits in the most moves or less. It’s laid out with four card piles in two rows each, and you have so many cards, then you try to make holes to move things around, which is what you do in Spider Solitaire. In the doubles version, you can challenge and take over if you can make the play in fewer moves. Judy and I were brutal, not giving each other an inch. Along with puzzles (those all white seals or black cats were our favorites), we could keep ourselves occupied in the early eighties, back before MTV was a household staple (and when it played music videos).
I play hearts on the computer too, and my kids are good at that game and enjoy renaming the players. I’ve never mastered bridge, but I played spades in college and was a wicked partner. I didn’t lose much. Then came video games, and the challenge moved to the small screen. I loved Zelda on the first Nintendo, and after mastering being Link, could win in one life, without ever dying. Remember, back then “save game” was rare. I still hate the Teenage Ninja Turtles game for not thinking of that rather nice feature. If you lost at the very end, it was start all the way over from level one.
Now my kids play a Zelda version I don’t recognize on the Wii, and I play card games while I’m checking email or pretending I’m going to write the book I have due. I figure it’s my vice, and everyone needs at least one, and I rationalize that it’s better than eating potato chips. Still, I really should find something else to do that makes better use of my time. I probably could have a lot more books written if I wrote instead of moved cards around. But it’s all mental, and rather entertaining.
So what about you? Any vices? Any games you can’t live without?
Spider Solitaire comes free with Windows XP, but I had it even before that. My daughters like to play, but they cannot stand how I can win and they can’t. My ex husband couldn’t win either, but I’m a guru.
Spider has taken over everything. I used to play Free Cell and was good, but once I found Spider Solitaire, Free Cell was a goner. It didn’t have the challenges or the excitement. Minesweeper is also fun, and my best time on the easy level is 14 seconds. But Minesweeper gets boring, not to mention noisy when I blow up.
I think that my ability to play Spider Solitaire goes back to playing games of Double Solitaire with my stepsister. I’m not sure exactly how you play anymore, but you take two decks of cards and the goal is to clear suits in the most moves or less. It’s laid out with four card piles in two rows each, and you have so many cards, then you try to make holes to move things around, which is what you do in Spider Solitaire. In the doubles version, you can challenge and take over if you can make the play in fewer moves. Judy and I were brutal, not giving each other an inch. Along with puzzles (those all white seals or black cats were our favorites), we could keep ourselves occupied in the early eighties, back before MTV was a household staple (and when it played music videos).
I play hearts on the computer too, and my kids are good at that game and enjoy renaming the players. I’ve never mastered bridge, but I played spades in college and was a wicked partner. I didn’t lose much. Then came video games, and the challenge moved to the small screen. I loved Zelda on the first Nintendo, and after mastering being Link, could win in one life, without ever dying. Remember, back then “save game” was rare. I still hate the Teenage Ninja Turtles game for not thinking of that rather nice feature. If you lost at the very end, it was start all the way over from level one.
Now my kids play a Zelda version I don’t recognize on the Wii, and I play card games while I’m checking email or pretending I’m going to write the book I have due. I figure it’s my vice, and everyone needs at least one, and I rationalize that it’s better than eating potato chips. Still, I really should find something else to do that makes better use of my time. I probably could have a lot more books written if I wrote instead of moved cards around. But it’s all mental, and rather entertaining.
So what about you? Any vices? Any games you can’t live without?
Monday, January 19, 2009
A small daily change… A huge payoff
Sometime back (years, maybe) Oprah Winfrey mentioned using a gratitude journal. Every night she jots down something she’s grateful for. I always liked the idea, but never tried it. Until recently.
I started January 1. Each morning, I play soothing music. (Right now, the music is from Within, a CD composed and played by David Michael, a Celtic harpist.) I sit quietly for a minimum of ten minutes (I’m hyper; for me ten minutes is a lot!). I decide what I want to create for myself that day. I also read through inspirational quotes and think about them. I finish by jotting down three things for which I am grateful.
So far, the experience is good. Actually, better than good. The mental focus I gain from doing these things begins the day in a powerful way. I am focused and active instead of hazy and reactive, and ready to conquer any obstacles that crop up. A huge payoff for ten short minutes. Whenever I’m tempted to skip the exercise (hey, I’m human), I remember what I gain from it.
What about you? Do you pray, meditate or otherwise focus your life on a daily basis?
Eager to hear from you and grateful for each person reading this,
Ann
www.annroth.net
I started January 1. Each morning, I play soothing music. (Right now, the music is from Within, a CD composed and played by David Michael, a Celtic harpist.) I sit quietly for a minimum of ten minutes (I’m hyper; for me ten minutes is a lot!). I decide what I want to create for myself that day. I also read through inspirational quotes and think about them. I finish by jotting down three things for which I am grateful.
So far, the experience is good. Actually, better than good. The mental focus I gain from doing these things begins the day in a powerful way. I am focused and active instead of hazy and reactive, and ready to conquer any obstacles that crop up. A huge payoff for ten short minutes. Whenever I’m tempted to skip the exercise (hey, I’m human), I remember what I gain from it.
What about you? Do you pray, meditate or otherwise focus your life on a daily basis?
Eager to hear from you and grateful for each person reading this,
Ann
www.annroth.net
Friday, January 16, 2009
Telemarketing Scams and Winter Blues
Okay, I'm going to confess something--I'm a Sucker. Yep, just paint a big S on my forehead.
Two weeks ago I was writing at my desk staring out the window at the snow falling--AGAIN. The temperature that day hovered in the teens and no sun--can you say Winter Blues? The phone rings and the area code is 407--Florida. I know someone in Florida, so I answer--not the person I know, but maybe better.
A cheery woman informs me that my husband and I have won a free vacation. Yeah! She proceeds to list off several "warm-weather" locations like Hawaii, Cancun, Orlando Florida etc. (Remember what I'm staring at out my widow while this woman is rambling in my ear). Like a circuit breaker gone wild my brain crackled and suddenly I was worrying about my wardrobe, thinking I have nothing to wear to a beach and must go shopping. Anyway the woman said she'd go over the details with my husband when he returned from his business trip to Detroit later in the week--this all had to do with his Marriot Hotel points.
Of course I called hubby and left an "excited" message on his cell phone. The poor man didn’t want to burst my bubble so he'd called the woman back before phoning me with the bad news--it was a vacation timeshare. Kind of like paying rent each month in exchange for one week at a resort destination. Well, that s*cked. And of course it didn't include air-fair or taxes on the hotel rooms and the woman had never mentioned sitting through a 90-minute company presentation when you arrive at the resort.
So the next day I sat at my desk again and stared at the snow and gray skies outside my office window and thanked my stars I was a writer and could at least escape the winter blues for a few hours a day by living vicariously through the characters in the book I'm revising right now--which happens to take place in Oklahoma during July and August.
Marin
A Cowboy's Promise *Men Made in America* (April 09)
Samantha's Cowboy (Aug 2009)
www.marinthomas.com
Two weeks ago I was writing at my desk staring out the window at the snow falling--AGAIN. The temperature that day hovered in the teens and no sun--can you say Winter Blues? The phone rings and the area code is 407--Florida. I know someone in Florida, so I answer--not the person I know, but maybe better.
A cheery woman informs me that my husband and I have won a free vacation. Yeah! She proceeds to list off several "warm-weather" locations like Hawaii, Cancun, Orlando Florida etc. (Remember what I'm staring at out my widow while this woman is rambling in my ear). Like a circuit breaker gone wild my brain crackled and suddenly I was worrying about my wardrobe, thinking I have nothing to wear to a beach and must go shopping. Anyway the woman said she'd go over the details with my husband when he returned from his business trip to Detroit later in the week--this all had to do with his Marriot Hotel points.
Of course I called hubby and left an "excited" message on his cell phone. The poor man didn’t want to burst my bubble so he'd called the woman back before phoning me with the bad news--it was a vacation timeshare. Kind of like paying rent each month in exchange for one week at a resort destination. Well, that s*cked. And of course it didn't include air-fair or taxes on the hotel rooms and the woman had never mentioned sitting through a 90-minute company presentation when you arrive at the resort.
So the next day I sat at my desk again and stared at the snow and gray skies outside my office window and thanked my stars I was a writer and could at least escape the winter blues for a few hours a day by living vicariously through the characters in the book I'm revising right now--which happens to take place in Oklahoma during July and August.
Marin
A Cowboy's Promise *Men Made in America* (April 09)
Samantha's Cowboy (Aug 2009)
www.marinthomas.com
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Telling It Like It Might Be
In romance, the gold standard for criticism is Romantic Times. So I was thrilled to read that RT awarded 4 ½ stars out of 5 to my January release, Million-Dollar Nanny. Reviewer. Whitney Kate Sullivan called it an “extremely touching, beautifully written story.” Thank you, Whitney!
Since few print publications review romance, thank goodness for romance Web sites. These are often established and maintained by dedicated fans and booksellers.
When Harlequin sends copies of my books a few months before publication, I mail out half a dozen to reviewers who, over the years, have shown an interest in continuing to read and write about my books. Some of them are kind enough to e-mail me when the review is posted, and I’ve even had the privilege of meeting several of these generous ladies at Romance Writers of America national conferences.
This is a far cry from the antagonism that sometimes springs up between literary authors and critics. In reading the Wikipedia article labeled “Critics,” I think a long-suffering author might have written this line: “Often destructive criticism comes from persons who are envious, cruel and those who judge in fields which are not their own.” It goes on to say that that hurtful criticism “may be done intentionally or out of sheer ignorance and foolishness.”
I’ll admit that, delicious as I find the sentiment, the article is festooned with warnings that it doesn’t cite sources and may not be factually accurate. Who’d have figured an article on critics would be subject to so much criticism itself?
I Googled my way over to Wikipedia’s much more scholarly article on “Literary Criticism,” which has been tidied up and properly Wikified. It cites an honorable history dating back to Aristotle and Plato. The article discusses literary theory and schools of criticism, using elevated language such as: “However important all of these aesthetic movements were as antecedents, current ideas about literary criticism derive almost entirely from the new direction taken in the early twentieth century.”
Let’s face it. I enjoyed that ragtag, opinionated, non-scholarly commentary in “Critics” a lot more. Which just goes to show that even literary criticism can take its share of brickbats.
By the way, I found an interesting definition of “brickbat” on Thefreedictionary.com. But I’ve indulged my curiosity – and your patience – long enough.
Happy reading!
Since few print publications review romance, thank goodness for romance Web sites. These are often established and maintained by dedicated fans and booksellers.
When Harlequin sends copies of my books a few months before publication, I mail out half a dozen to reviewers who, over the years, have shown an interest in continuing to read and write about my books. Some of them are kind enough to e-mail me when the review is posted, and I’ve even had the privilege of meeting several of these generous ladies at Romance Writers of America national conferences.
This is a far cry from the antagonism that sometimes springs up between literary authors and critics. In reading the Wikipedia article labeled “Critics,” I think a long-suffering author might have written this line: “Often destructive criticism comes from persons who are envious, cruel and those who judge in fields which are not their own.” It goes on to say that that hurtful criticism “may be done intentionally or out of sheer ignorance and foolishness.”
I’ll admit that, delicious as I find the sentiment, the article is festooned with warnings that it doesn’t cite sources and may not be factually accurate. Who’d have figured an article on critics would be subject to so much criticism itself?
I Googled my way over to Wikipedia’s much more scholarly article on “Literary Criticism,” which has been tidied up and properly Wikified. It cites an honorable history dating back to Aristotle and Plato. The article discusses literary theory and schools of criticism, using elevated language such as: “However important all of these aesthetic movements were as antecedents, current ideas about literary criticism derive almost entirely from the new direction taken in the early twentieth century.”
Let’s face it. I enjoyed that ragtag, opinionated, non-scholarly commentary in “Critics” a lot more. Which just goes to show that even literary criticism can take its share of brickbats.
By the way, I found an interesting definition of “brickbat” on Thefreedictionary.com. But I’ve indulged my curiosity – and your patience – long enough.
Happy reading!
Monday, January 12, 2009
There goes the adrenaline
Most people who know me know I write in big huge spurts. I'm on the end of one. I wrote the last nine pages of my book today, and then went through it with a fine tooth comb. Twice. I'm sure I still missed something.
The moment it left my inbox for my editor's desk, I was tired. All the adrenaline of writing (and forgetting to eat) left in a flash. It's time for bed, and time for goodbye until I get the book back on revision. However, I had to post my blog as I have newspaper deadline tomorrow and am working a 13 hour day at school.
It sounds funny to say, but I see characters in my head. For me, the characters come before the plot and anything else. They're like ghosts who talk in my head and create their own little movie. I don't interact with them; it's more like being a fly on the wall. However, I can make them do what I want, although often the surprise me.
My current WIP is about a corporate VP who becomes accidentally pregant by her much younger PA. Mitch loves Kristi, but she has no clue. Creating Kristi has been hard for me, because Kristi is unlucky at love and doesn't believe she's worthy. That forced me to dig deep to find those sitations that could make her realistic. As for Mitch, I wish he were real and I'd snag him right up. He's so convinced he's the man for her, even when she's oblivious.
I promise a better post on the 20th, but wanted to drop in and say hi and happy Monday. Enjoy your week!
The moment it left my inbox for my editor's desk, I was tired. All the adrenaline of writing (and forgetting to eat) left in a flash. It's time for bed, and time for goodbye until I get the book back on revision. However, I had to post my blog as I have newspaper deadline tomorrow and am working a 13 hour day at school.
It sounds funny to say, but I see characters in my head. For me, the characters come before the plot and anything else. They're like ghosts who talk in my head and create their own little movie. I don't interact with them; it's more like being a fly on the wall. However, I can make them do what I want, although often the surprise me.
My current WIP is about a corporate VP who becomes accidentally pregant by her much younger PA. Mitch loves Kristi, but she has no clue. Creating Kristi has been hard for me, because Kristi is unlucky at love and doesn't believe she's worthy. That forced me to dig deep to find those sitations that could make her realistic. As for Mitch, I wish he were real and I'd snag him right up. He's so convinced he's the man for her, even when she's oblivious.
I promise a better post on the 20th, but wanted to drop in and say hi and happy Monday. Enjoy your week!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Magic of January
I'm not the first, nor probably the last, to blog about New Year's resolutions for 2009. But I just can't resist. I love the start of a new year, a blank slate.
Usually I start the year by reviewing last year's goals and checking off any that I've accomplished. This is almost always a disappointing exercise, because I inevitably bite off way more than I can chew. I set huge, lofty goals, imagining my perfect self with a perfect life, then setting goals intended to get me there, imagining that by the end of the year I'll be perfectly fit and toned, eating the healthiest of diets, living in a completely organized and beautifully decorated home, writing a book a month and somehow finding time to read to underprivileged children.
It all sounds perfectly sane in January. But somehow it always goes awry. I get distracted by some new kink in my life or I take up a new hobby I'd never heard of in January and the goals fall by the wayside. About June, I'm shoving them under the desk blotter and trying not to think about how little progress I've made, and by December I'm wondering if I'll ever change and knowing, deep down, that I won't. I'll always have a less-than-healthy diet, I'll always have a messy office, and I'll never stop procrastinating.
Yet, now it's January and I'm doing it again. I'm planning to declutter my entire house (this might actually happen, since I'm moving); write three books, lose five pounds (those last five stinkin' pounds!) cook healthy three nights per week and resume cycling and yoga. I'm going to get in touch with old friends. I'm going to meditate every day and volunteer my time once a week. I'm going to plant a garden and actually take care of it. That's only the tip of the iceberg.
Right this moment, I actually believe I'll do all those things. I am brimming with optimism. I haven't made it to yoga class or pumped up the bike tires, but I got a new skillet as a Christmas gift, so that’s almost cooking. And I meditated once already, and I've written at least five pages on my new book. Hope springs eternal.
But that's the magic of January.
Usually I start the year by reviewing last year's goals and checking off any that I've accomplished. This is almost always a disappointing exercise, because I inevitably bite off way more than I can chew. I set huge, lofty goals, imagining my perfect self with a perfect life, then setting goals intended to get me there, imagining that by the end of the year I'll be perfectly fit and toned, eating the healthiest of diets, living in a completely organized and beautifully decorated home, writing a book a month and somehow finding time to read to underprivileged children.
It all sounds perfectly sane in January. But somehow it always goes awry. I get distracted by some new kink in my life or I take up a new hobby I'd never heard of in January and the goals fall by the wayside. About June, I'm shoving them under the desk blotter and trying not to think about how little progress I've made, and by December I'm wondering if I'll ever change and knowing, deep down, that I won't. I'll always have a less-than-healthy diet, I'll always have a messy office, and I'll never stop procrastinating.
Yet, now it's January and I'm doing it again. I'm planning to declutter my entire house (this might actually happen, since I'm moving); write three books, lose five pounds (those last five stinkin' pounds!) cook healthy three nights per week and resume cycling and yoga. I'm going to get in touch with old friends. I'm going to meditate every day and volunteer my time once a week. I'm going to plant a garden and actually take care of it. That's only the tip of the iceberg.
Right this moment, I actually believe I'll do all those things. I am brimming with optimism. I haven't made it to yoga class or pumped up the bike tires, but I got a new skillet as a Christmas gift, so that’s almost cooking. And I meditated once already, and I've written at least five pages on my new book. Hope springs eternal.
But that's the magic of January.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
A Strange Encounter
Happy New Year everyone!
I'd like to share a strange experience I had the other day. I had a doctor’s appointment and after I signed in, I notice a lady was reading one of my books. This is an author’s dream, or at least it’s one of mine. I could hardly believe she was reading my book.
Now my dilemma. Should I say something? Heck yeah, was my instant response. So I nicely said, “Are you enjoying the book?”
“Yes,” she replied, without raising her head.
Well, I didn’t expect that. So I tried again.
“I wrote that book,” I continued.
“I know,” was her surprising answer, and again she didn’t look up.
My ego was starting to take a beating. Where was the gushing or praise or something beside "I know?"
Okay. I waited a minute and then asked, “Would you like a bookmark?”
“No, thanks.” Again she didn’t look at me.
Now this was just weird. And rude. This certainly wasn’t turning out the way I was expecting. Before I could gather my courage to ask another question, she was called back to see the doctor. She gathered her book, her purse and quickly left the room, never looking my way.
At this point my ego was in the dumpster. Maybe that dream wasn’t so great after all.
When it was my turn to see the doctor, I planned to ask the nurse about the lady, but I never got a chance. The nurse said, “Linda, you have to stop scaring our patients.” And then she told me a shocking story.
The lady was in her late thirties and she was born to parents in their late forties. She was an only child and home schooled. Evidently she had very little contact with the outside world. Her parents had passed away and her guardian was trying to introduce her to the real world by making her go out in public, on the advice of a psychologist. The lady is painfully shy and has a extremely difficult time talking to people. Her passion is books and she reads all the time. She orders and never goes into a store.
The nurse went on to say that the lady had ordered all my books and had really wanted to talk to me, but she couldn’t. I felt so bad about persisting with questions and I asked the nurse to apologize for me. She said that she would, but the doctors wanted people to talk to her. That made me feel a lot better. I left a bookmark for her and the nurse said the lady would be excited to get it.
The situation didn't turn out the way I'd envisioned (have to wait for the gushing and praise), but I came away with a deep appreciation for other people’s feelings. I can’t even imagine living in that kind of fear.
How about you? Have you had any strange encounters?
Linda
www.lindawarren.net
Mar ’09 - The Sheriff of Horseshoe, Texas
I'd like to share a strange experience I had the other day. I had a doctor’s appointment and after I signed in, I notice a lady was reading one of my books. This is an author’s dream, or at least it’s one of mine. I could hardly believe she was reading my book.
Now my dilemma. Should I say something? Heck yeah, was my instant response. So I nicely said, “Are you enjoying the book?”
“Yes,” she replied, without raising her head.
Well, I didn’t expect that. So I tried again.
“I wrote that book,” I continued.
“I know,” was her surprising answer, and again she didn’t look up.
My ego was starting to take a beating. Where was the gushing or praise or something beside "I know?"
Okay. I waited a minute and then asked, “Would you like a bookmark?”
“No, thanks.” Again she didn’t look at me.
Now this was just weird. And rude. This certainly wasn’t turning out the way I was expecting. Before I could gather my courage to ask another question, she was called back to see the doctor. She gathered her book, her purse and quickly left the room, never looking my way.
At this point my ego was in the dumpster. Maybe that dream wasn’t so great after all.
When it was my turn to see the doctor, I planned to ask the nurse about the lady, but I never got a chance. The nurse said, “Linda, you have to stop scaring our patients.” And then she told me a shocking story.
The lady was in her late thirties and she was born to parents in their late forties. She was an only child and home schooled. Evidently she had very little contact with the outside world. Her parents had passed away and her guardian was trying to introduce her to the real world by making her go out in public, on the advice of a psychologist. The lady is painfully shy and has a extremely difficult time talking to people. Her passion is books and she reads all the time. She orders and never goes into a store.
The nurse went on to say that the lady had ordered all my books and had really wanted to talk to me, but she couldn’t. I felt so bad about persisting with questions and I asked the nurse to apologize for me. She said that she would, but the doctors wanted people to talk to her. That made me feel a lot better. I left a bookmark for her and the nurse said the lady would be excited to get it.
The situation didn't turn out the way I'd envisioned (have to wait for the gushing and praise), but I came away with a deep appreciation for other people’s feelings. I can’t even imagine living in that kind of fear.
How about you? Have you had any strange encounters?
Linda
www.lindawarren.net
Mar ’09 - The Sheriff of Horseshoe, Texas
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Beginnings
Happy New Year, everyone. Hope your holidays were wonderful. I got to see a lot of family, which filled me with the joy of the season.
Since we seem to be on a theme here, beginnings stuck in my head when I sat down to blog. Probably because I've started writing a new book, "beginnings" to me means the first line or first chapter. So I looked up some of my favorite books to see if their first lines drew me into the story. Of course everyone knows the first line of REBECCA by Daphne DuMaurier because it's quoted so often. Here's a sample from my shelf.
Father must protect me or I am dead. From HER ONE DESIRE by Kimberly Killion, Kensington Zebra.
It was a proposition that would tempt a saint. From MOON IN THE WATER by Elizabeth Grayson, Bantam Books.
"I ain't hirin' no baby killer to work in my store." From MAN WITH A PAST by Kay Stockham, Harlequin SuperRomance.
Each of these uses a different technique, but all drew me in. Whether it's a direct thought, narrative or dialogue, they effectively made me read on. These are on my keeper shelf because the stories are as wonderful as their first lines.
When I buy a book, I notice the front cover art, title and author's name. If I'm interested in one of those, I'll flip to the back or cover flap to read the blurb. Seldom do I read the first line to determine whether to buy a book. But when I'm reading, the impression that first line makes sticks with me. Did it grab me? Draw me on? Make me eager to find out the answer?
What about you? Do you have any favorite first lines? Or don't you think they're relevant?
Megan Kelly
megankellybooks.com
Since we seem to be on a theme here, beginnings stuck in my head when I sat down to blog. Probably because I've started writing a new book, "beginnings" to me means the first line or first chapter. So I looked up some of my favorite books to see if their first lines drew me into the story. Of course everyone knows the first line of REBECCA by Daphne DuMaurier because it's quoted so often. Here's a sample from my shelf.
Father must protect me or I am dead. From HER ONE DESIRE by Kimberly Killion, Kensington Zebra.
It was a proposition that would tempt a saint. From MOON IN THE WATER by Elizabeth Grayson, Bantam Books.
"I ain't hirin' no baby killer to work in my store." From MAN WITH A PAST by Kay Stockham, Harlequin SuperRomance.
Each of these uses a different technique, but all drew me in. Whether it's a direct thought, narrative or dialogue, they effectively made me read on. These are on my keeper shelf because the stories are as wonderful as their first lines.
When I buy a book, I notice the front cover art, title and author's name. If I'm interested in one of those, I'll flip to the back or cover flap to read the blurb. Seldom do I read the first line to determine whether to buy a book. But when I'm reading, the impression that first line makes sticks with me. Did it grab me? Draw me on? Make me eager to find out the answer?
What about you? Do you have any favorite first lines? Or don't you think they're relevant?
Megan Kelly
megankellybooks.com
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