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Borders is looking for a buyer. Barnes and Noble may be acquiring the second largest bookseller in the US. This is sad news. Another brick-and-mortar (and a great one) chain going down the drain means another less buyer for an author's books. Borders has always been very supportive of romance books; their romance-book division buyers are very knowledgeable and one of the most accessible in the industry.
Most of us here are online buyers but I do know many who like to browse a bookstore for new books. If they don't see one they like, they don't buy. I know because I used to be like that when I didn't allow myself to use a credit card. If I couldn't find a particular title out in the bookstore, I'd just buy another book that day. Today, wither high gasoline and food prices, books are a luxury item for some of us. With yet another shopping venue gone, readers have less places to go for a browse and impulse-buy.
There are also fewer and fewer independent bookstores out there, and most are struggling. I try to shop at the Book Rack by my house, but it's one of the few UBSes that have great variety. You might wonder fewer indes and brick-and-mortar should matter when anyone could just order online or go to a giant BN store. The smaller bookshops are usually owned and run by readers who love their genre and word of mouth is so very important to mid-list and newer authors. My bookseller friend actually read the arcs publishers send her so she can give recommendations to the older readers who come by the bookstore once every few weeks. She knows their tastes and they trust her. You can't buy that kind of publicity. If you go to a BN bookstore, it is unlikely that anyone at the customer service counter knows any names you come up with or have suggestions about books.
I hope Borders can make it through these bad times. I'm going to miss my friends there.
Heehee. This video was awesome funny first thing in the morning.
Writing is just like meowing, heehee. All weekend, I've been watching TV, rolling around, and reading books, and every time the Alpha Male drops by to get me to do something, I go, "Meow. Writing. Meow." Heehee.
Yup, that's what I'm planning to do. Me. And rereading all three Patricia Briggs. And then icecream. I'm not combing my hair today.
I'll post something more succinct after the books and icecream. By the way, I'm in love with Edy's Little Bites. Yum.
And what are your grand plans this weekend?
Eversince the bike accident, friends and the neighborhood had been calling the Alpha Male "Crash." The other day, a couple upgraded the nickname to "Crash Victim." LOL.
"Wat up, C.V.?" actually sounds kinda cool.
They ask me what I'm looking forward to now that he's getting better. Oh, that's easy. I CAN'T WAIT TO HAVE MY NICE TRUCK BACK instead of the old heap I have to drive because his injured leg can't handle the clutch. Grrr.
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I have been remissed in posting the finalists of the Romance Writers of America's RITA award. This is similar to the Oscars in the sense that the books were judged by our peers. And yes, we all dress up and eat chocolate and hobnob with the big authors ;-).
Congratulations to the finalists! Check out the list and tell me what you think.
I added a cool widget that allows the reader to visit random past posts by clicking on the link. Look to the right at GLOW TIME TRAVEL and just click and you get to read a random past insanity. Heehee. Be careful. There are nekkid male torsos and Sexy Vege pics floating around. It's fun to be surprised, isn't it?
Last week, everyone was talking about the American Idol dude, David Cook, and his version of Michael Jackson's Billie Jean. He rocked it out and everyone was amazed at how it sounded.
Actually, it wasn't Cook who remade Billie Jean into a rocker anthem, but Chris Cornell, who was the lead of some of my favorite earlier bands, AudioSlave and Soundgarten. Chris sang a very rock bluesy version of MJ's Billie Jean and I found an excellent video on You Tube:
I've always liked Cornell's voice and he's debuting this song in his newest album coming out soon. I think I'm going to download it cos I like this version very much. It's angstier and more matured than the original, which I first heard as a young college student with a more pop-py outlook in life.
Still, it doesn't compare to the incredible original take by Michael Jackson himself. His weirdness notwithstanding, I remember going to his concert in the 80s and seeing his awesome magic during performance. The video below is his re-enactment of Billie Jean on its 30th anniversary in Madison Square Garden, another live performance I saw. The young crowd in this show, who was around my age when I first saw this, reacted the same freaked-out way as I and the crowd I was with in the 80s. Not bad for a man who's in his early 40s in 2001. Check out Liz Taylor, Liza Minellie AND McCauley Caulkin (is that how you spell his name) in the front row cheering him on. So weird. But so apt too.
What stood out for me in this video was MJ's story-telling ability, which was prevalent in almost all his songs. Here, he walks on stage, thirty years after Billie Jean's debut, and opens a suitcase. You can feel his surprise and uncertainty as he takes out the old suit and tries it on. The crowd goes crazy because they recognize it (which is funny to me because half of them weren't even borned yet). He pulls out The Hat. And then, The Glove. The built-up is just perfect. He tentatively moves, as if trying to remember, and then, he strikes up The Pose. Pause. The crowd is in a frenzy.
Even now, after all my young pop-py hormones are long gone, he pulled me in with no music and no words, just those two minutes of miming. He might have lost a step or two in speed and didn't perform the whole song and dance at the same time, but the old magic was still there.
As a writer, I hope I can achieve that with my writing. That thirty years from now (argh!), someone will pick up the book and still feel the characters coming alive. But that young crowd in that audience? They were me during a younger, even more exuberant Michael Jackson time. That kind of magic is a gift from the Muse.
Come on, admit it. You tried moonwalking too. ::grin:::
I love categories. A well-written and tightly-paced cat is so difficult, especially in the new shorter format. I used to read them a lot but haven't lately. Yesterday, I spotted four authors I really enjoy with books out and counting change (argh, quarters and dimes!), I had enough to scoop them all up!
The Martinez Marriage Revenge -- Helen Bianchin (Presents)
Mind Games -- Merline Lovelace (Romantic Suspense)
Danger Signals -- Kathleen Creighton (Romantic Suspense)
Sex, Straight Up -- Kathleen O'Reilly (Blaze)
Some of the big names today started from categories--Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown, Linda Howard, Ann Stuart, Kay Hooper, Janet Evanovich, Iris Johannsen--just to name a few. Each of them contributed so much to the growth of the genre, with their unique voices. If you can get some of the older cats from the local UBS, try them. You'll see the first hints of the heros/heroines and themes in their later, bigger books.
I think I have 98 percent of all of Anne Stuart's books, all the way from the seventies. I love the way she broke the hero mold, bringing in the dark gothic anti-hero into my romances. She wasn't the first, of course (Bronte's Wuthering Heights!), but she was the first that gave me the happy endings I yearn for those poor, tortured males. And she's never sappy.
I also collect La Nora's cats, but man, those take up a lot of shelf space! I have most of the Flower Series. I also own some of her hard-to-find earliest books. I love her families--nothing like a NR family squabbling and loving scene. She's the best at cats and I wish she still writes them.
Another one whose style fits cats is Linda Howard. Not a wasted scene in her romantic suspense. I reread all her categories, especially her McKenzies. She taught me so much about balancing romance and suspense.
So many authors who have been on my to-buy category list: Donna Kaufmann, Judith Duncan, Suzanne Brockmann, Rachel Lee, Kylie Brant....If you have never read a Judith Duncan, you don't know what you're missing. A writer whose words drip emotion. Her books are keepers on my shelves.
Read any categories lately? Any authors you miss who aren't writing them any more? Share some titles?
I posted in the comment area (yesterday's Post #2). Will the peeps below email me?
DAVID LURKER
CYNTHIA DALTON
ANONYMOUS
LIVIANA
GRAEME
JANE
CARRIE ANN
(you too, Lady Zannah, if you're interested in a freebie)
Thanks for dropping by and please come by to visit again!
Dear Author has a thread saying that romance books don't look deeply enough at issues, that is, if, let's say, the hero is a soldier with PTSD, the PTSD issue is discarded pretty quickly once the lust sets in. Or, the issue is just window-dressing for the romance.
I (also in my reply) stated that it's a delicate balance when it comes to writing our genre. There's the sunshine-y aspect of a happy ending and our readers don't really want all the gory details of, let's say, war. I think my books do deal with heavy subjects with enough detail, yet the focus is also on a love relationship between the protagonists during dangerous times. I don't skirt around the fact that my spies and good guys wear gray hats now and then (Jed/Stefan) and that even the bad guys have a sense of humor (Dilaver).
John Scalzi has again generously open a thread for his readers to pimp (in a good way) and I thought I'd invite his readers to read one of my SEAL books, THE HUNTER, for free. Because I think I write for any reader who's interested in different cultures and issues, that's why. And because I think it's always good to show to others that it's not just "oooh, romance" going on in our genre's books.
If you're coming from Scalzi's blog (thanks again, John), please leave a comment and tomorrow sometime, I'll pick a couple of names from the hat. You'll have to come back here to check, though. For my other readers :::smile::: you get to read a bit about Jed on Post #1. And hey, please feel free to get your non-romance reading friend to post here for a free book too. The more pimpage the better!
You can read the first page here at Amazon and if you click on "Surprise Me" on your left, you get to read other pages in the book too.
Thanks for dropping by!
I actually have a roofing job! Yay, food and paid bills. The Bad Puppy was beginning to eye the bookshelves for possible snacks....
Yesterday was a tough writing day. I think I stared at the screen for four hours before I finally managed to start writing the scene. It was, of all things, a sex scene. Usually I crack my knuckles at that and go for a nice emotional ride with my characters. However, uh, this is Jed we're talking about and he's not exactly your emo-bitch. I was writing, using his POV (point of view), about his sexual manipulation of Hell in virtual reality and I wanted to show his motives/motivation/reasoning without him saying a word. Do you know I was stuck with my fingers poised over the keys for hours and hours till I capitulated and instead, gave Hell's POV instead? That struggle was so painful I almost gave up for the day. But the scene worked because at the end of the intense sexual confrontation (and yes, I'd label it more a confrontation), Hell said to "Hades" in VR (not final version):
“I hate the power you have over my mind,” she told him, in between small pants. “In fact, I hate you right now.”
“Hate, love, lust. I need all your strong emotions tied to me,” he replied grimly. “I won’t lose you out there. You’ll obey me in this. Out there, you can punch me again, if you like. In here, you’re mine. The more you accept this, the less dangerous it’d be for you when we're messing with the unknown during immersive remote-viewing. Get it?”
Tired of blogsploxions on Easter day? Kill a chocolate bunny instead. There are many ways to take out an Easter bunny.
Warning: The following video is full of violence against chocolate bunnies.
In the entertainment world, an "easter egg" is a hidden reference in a book, movie, software program, etc., that was put there by the creator. For example, Seinfeld always had a Superman reference hidden in his TV program. That's an "Easter egg." In novels, when an author puts another book of his that was written under another pseudonym in his book, that's an example of an "Easter egg."
I have found, in reading romances, references to friends' names, enemies, even other characters from critique partners' books. These are similar to inside jokes or hidden messages, fun to find if you know what you're looking for. Do I have "Easter eggs" in my books? Of course. It's fun! For example, some of my heros have ex-girlfriends named Maria. I put that name there to tease my friend, who helps edit my books.
Have you seen any "Easter eggs" in your books and movies?
Here's the incomparable Eddie Izzard on the meaning of Easter and Christmas.
Have a good Easter!
This past week, I read two books, which was a miracle. There was a time when I could read a book a day, but that was years ago.
Anyway, I highly recommend Joanna Bourne's The Spymaster's Lady and Patricia Brigg's Iron Kissed. The first is a historical spy romance and the second, the third book of an urban fantasy series, which can be read stand-alone. Both have twists and turns that made me go "ooooh" and unable to stop turning the pages. Unless you want me to write one of my long-ass reviews, you'd have to take my word that these are wonderful reads that transcended their respective genres. The Spymaster's Lady, for instance, has the most kick-ass female spies that doesn't come across as too modern; in fact, she's so well-written, I started to read the narrative with a French accent. In my head, of course. My out-loud French accent could slay indignant Francophones by ear wave assault.
My reading two books also coincides with the fact that I'm not working or writing much, both of which seem uncontrollable, the former by the economy and the latter...who knows? Yes, the control freak in me is freaking out, in a very controlled way. And that's why no one notices. I'm actually a walking hysterical jello pudding right now. Just kidding.
It is so strange, though. The more time I have on my hands, the less words I produce. It's a puzzle to me. I keep thinking I should be writing my ass off. Everyone tells me so. Everyone.
"Oh, wow, not working for a week? You must love all that writing time!"
"Hey, that's great, you must be writing morning to night!"
"Oh, that's wonderful, all that free time...you must be loving the writing."
If words could kill one's ability to create, those knocked mine out cold. I have all this time and I can't write! :::head desk::: I think I'm wired wrong.
So I turned to my other love. I read. These were such beautiful stories, they swept me off my feet, taking me from my present troubles for a few glorious hours. And, they renew those little creative neurons. Hopefully. Thank you, Bourne and Briggs ;-). From these two books, I'll take one kick ass lady spy with a wonderful sense of humor and one alpha male (albeit werewolf) who is mad, angry, MURDEROUS that his female has been hurt, and sprinkle the magic onto my pages. Hopefully. Because my lady spy just happens to be injured. And my usually very controlled alpha male happens to have just lost it.
You take your creative flow from wherever you can.
And oh, snap: I KNOW you girls are reading those last two sentences about the two spies very, very speculatively. Uh-huh.
*****
Let's hear your current read.
Ladies,
1) He is a tease
2) He knows you're looking
3) He does it slowly
4) He makes sure you're watching
5) He likes long, slow strokes
6) And, well, he knows what to do with a pussy :-)
Woof! Here's a news article (The Scotman) waiting for the paranormal authors to take to another level:
Dolphin answers whales' SOS call
By MARTYN McLAUGHLIN
THEY famously attempted to warn mankind of the Earth's impending destruction in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, only for their behaviour to be dismissed as playful acrobatics.
But now, solid evidence has emerged of the dolphin's altruistic nature. In a act of selflessness which has astounded experts and confirmed the friendly nature of the species, a bottlenose came to the rescue of two whales stranded on a beach in New Zealand.
The dolphin – nicknamed Moko by local residents, who said it spent much of its time swimming playfully with beachgoers – helped two pygmy sperm whales, facing imminent death after becoming stranded on a sandbar, swim to safety.
Until Moko's arrival, rescuers feared the mother and calf would have to be put down to prevent them suffering a prolonged death on Mahia beach, about 300 miles north-east of Wellington.
Malcolm Smith and his team from the New Zealand Conservation Department had tried in vain to rescue the animals for an hour-and-a-half. With their effort faltering, it seemed only a matter of time before the operation was called off.
"They kept getting disoriented and stranding again," Mr Smith said yesterday. "They couldn't find their way back past (the sandbar] to the sea."
Just as it seemed all hope was lost, Moko appeared. The dolphin approached the whales, leading them 200m along the beach before navigating them out to the open sea.
Mr Smith believes the dolphin heard the whales' distress calls and came to their aid.
"It was looking like it was going to be a bad outcome for the whales ... then Moko came along and fixed it," he said. "They had arched their backs and were calling to one another, but as soon as the dolphin turned up, they submerged and followed her.
"I don't speak whale and I don't speak dolphin, but there was obviously something that went on, because the two whales changed from being quite distressed to following the dolphin willingly and directly along the beach and straight out to sea."
Another rescuer, Juanita Symes, added: "Moko came flying through the water and pushed in between us and the whales. She got them to head toward the hill, where the channel is. It was an amazing experience. The best day of my life."
Anton van Helden, a marine mammals expert at New Zealand's national museum, Te Papa Tongarewa, said the reports of Moko's rescue, while "fantastic", were believable because the dolphins have "a great capacity for altruistic activities".
He cited evidence of dolphins protecting people lost at sea, and their playfulness with other animals
."We've seen bottlenose dolphins getting lifted up on the noses of humpback whales and flicked out of the water just for fun," he said.
"But it's the first time I've heard of an inter-species refloating technique. I think that's wonderful."Since the rescue, Mr Smith said, the whales had not been spotted, although Moko soon returned to the beach and joined in games with local residents.
"I shouldn't do this, I know we are meant to remain scientific," he added, "but I actually went into the water with the dolphin and gave it a pat afterwards, because she really did save the day."
Sniff. I love a happy ending. Think I'll include a dolphin spy in a future book. Hey, we do have recruited Superspy Dolphins in the Navy. I actually researched them for the X-S-Bot Project mentioned in Into Danger and Virtually Hers ;-).
For the first time in weeks, I made a hundred bucks in roofing. Yay me.
You know the man has reverted into typical student behavior when he looks at you with a foolish smile pasted on his face the NIGHT before spring break ends, and says, "Uh. I have a paper due tomorrow that I need typed." Uh-huh. And to think I'd been so smug about dodging the teenage-nagging years. So, like a good mommie, I typed out "The Theme of Revenge in the Movie, The Count of Monte Cristo (2002) ."
Ranger Buddy has not seen this remake. He much, much preferred the older version. He called this new one "superficial nonsense." Heh. And, he mused, why must they have smart-alecky remarks while they're fighting to the death? I told him it was all Antonio Banderas' fault, but that just swished by him like Zorro's whip because the man had never seen that movie version either.
Admittedly, I'm envious. This man, who doesn't like to write, WROTE FOUR PAGES while I sat across from him struggling with my one page. At one point, as his pen's squiggles rivaled my keyboard tap-tap-taps, I wondered, in my authorly pain, how it had come to this.
I felt like the old SNL skit where the actor put a hand on his forehead and went, "I'm ACHT-ing!" Yeah, I was the WRIT-OR, but unfortunately, I had one page to his four. This man across the table was writing about Re-Venge and Ho-Nor, the human psyche that sought one and tried to live for the other, the power of Hate that fed the will to survive. And my one page? Reads like a medical journal entry dissecting a pile of rabbit turd.
Yes, I'm harshing on myself. That's what happens when I spend an hour editing four pages that don't belong to me. I made his paper so much better--A material--so why couldn't I make mine? Gah.
But I made $100 today, so I'm grateful. I'll pour myself a cup of coffee and I'll turn on the word processor, and hopefully, catch those illusive four or five pages this time.
K is for Kells, the Book of — Gorgeous book of illuminated script, created by Irish monks in the 8th century AD and now residing at Trinity College in Dublin. It’s the sort of book they don’t make any more, mostly because it’s difficult these days to find a group of monks willing to spend years painstakingly etching and painting Latin onto handcrafted vellum. They’re all off making CDs of Gregorian chants or something. Slackers.
You're in luck! Here's your pot of gold with your favorite IRISH COMMANDO, His Jedness.
Sorry, Lady Zannah, Chapter Eight didn't have a hint of Number Eight in it. Lots of Armando, though ;-).
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“Where were you exactly?” Jed asked.
Armando shrugged again in answer and hooked a thumb in his black leather belt, bracing his weight so Helen could lean on his arm. “I was having one of my weird blind attacks while I was walking on the floor above this one. I didn’t have far too run. What about you two? Why were you here at this time?”
“Just done with debriefing,” Jed replied, studying Armando closely. Blind attacks meant the younger man was in pain. “I thought the attacks were getting rarer.”
Armando ignored his comment, and instead cocked a dark eyebrow at Helen. “Debriefing with Hell? Fascinating.”
Jed said nothing, waiting for Eight Ball as well as Armando, staring intently at the younger man, looking for clues. Armando was in one of his moods. It was in the bored tone of in his voice, the little furrow in his brow, which he knew appeared when the younger man had another migraine attack. When his own schedule was a little lighter, he was going to resume training him, but for now, it was up to Heath. Right at this moment, he just wanted to get to the bottom of what just happened. He watched as Armando took Helen’s hand in his, looking deeply into her eyes.
“How’s the chosen one’s hypothalamus doing?” Armando continued.
Most people paused, smiled politely, looked puzzled, or frowned whenever Armando asked one of his offbeat questions. But Helen wasn’t anyone. Jed had had many months of looking into those hazel eyes on the screen and knew every nuance in their expression. He had seen that barely discernible calculating look entering those hazel eyes before, many times, while being tested during training. He blinked. She was in GEM mode.
“It’s functioning,” she said. “How’s yours?”
“Mine haven’t been tricked by drugs lately,” Armando mocked. “My neuro-hormones haven’t been over-producing but all this sexy talk might start the process.”
“I’m beginning to realize that certain drugs have a habit of tricking the user for longer than they think, Armando,” Helen said, the careless casualness in her voice catching Jed’s attention. For two people who had just collided with the floor, these two were acting way too calmly. “Are you so sure there’s nothing wrong with your limbic system?”
She’d obviously paid attention to all the doctors and scientists at the group debriefings, Jed noted, slightly amused such mundane talk would include the hypothalamus and brain stem. During the ones he’d attended when the first version of the SYMBIOS serum was introduced, he’d sat through hours of lectures about how the drug could, would, and should affect the hypothalamus, the part of the brain in control of body temperature, hunger, thirst, emotions, and—he slid another glance at Helen—sexual activity.
Nothing new. Except he didn’t like the way those two were standing so closely together, as if they were having a private communication. He pushed away the sudden urge to interrupt. Something else was happening here and he wasn’t going to let his personal feelings come between him and finding the answer.
Jed looked at Armando again. Helen’s problem had been pinpointed. Sort of. But what about Armando? The man admitted to migraine and periods of blindness that lasted up to an hour. None of the scientists and doctors had come up with an explanation. Almost the same drug, but different effect. What else wasn’t he telling them?
“Location confirmed, yo,” Eight Ball’s surfer lingo added another odd touch to the ongoing conversation. “Agent Chang’s location was exactly right above where you and Hell were standing four feet back from your current location. Using Agent Sullivan’s words, dudes, woo-woo simpatico shit.”
Armando looked surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing. Helen grinned.
“Thank you for your diagnosis, Eight Ball,” Jed said wryly. He needed to talk to the COMCEN supercomputer programmer one of these days about Eight Ball’s choice of persona…when he found a slot of free time. “Make two copies of both recordings and send one to my quarters and the other to Dr. Kirkland’s. Send a message to him that we need him at his office now.”
“Affirmative.”
“It’s late, isn’t it?” Helen asked. “What if he isn’t there? Aren’t we supposed to be going to dine with the admiral?”
“You’re limping,” Jed pointed out, “and I thought we’d all compare our hypothalamuses and limbic systems at Dr. Kirkland’s office. I’ll just have to cancel my meeting with the admiral till later.”
“But I’m hungry,” Helen said.
“Brains for dinner. Yum,” Armando murmured. “I think I should carry her the rest of the way, Jed, what do you think?”
Jed looked at the younger man. The inscrutable Asian face was firmly on, revealing nothing, but a male challenge was universal. He could say no and therefore show his hand, that Helen was his weakness.
He looked at Helen. She was still too quiet. Either she was still processing what had happened or she was using NOPAIN to nettle him. It didn’t matter. There were other ways to win a pissing contest.
His gaze traveled lower on her body and he knew from the slight twitch of her leg that she was affected by it. His gaze slid back up leisurely to meet hers.
“By all means,” he said softly.
********************
I received one of those money scam letters just now:
Attention,
I have Paid for the delivery fee for your Cheque Draft but the manager of Financial Trust Bank Plc Benin told me that before the check will get to you that it will expire.So i told him to cash $2.500,000.00 all the necessary arrangement of delivering the $2.500,000.00 in cash was made with FEDEX COURIER COMPANY.
Below is the needed information from you to enable them deliver your fund to you immediately. The only fee you have to pay them is $125 usd that they will use to obtain insurance certificate and claims of affadvite that will prove that the parcel that consist total sum of $2.500.000.00 belong to you be rest assure that all other fees have been paid by me
.FEDEX COURIER COMPANY, DR Randy WilliamsEMAIL== ( fedex.couriercompany70@yahoo.dk )
Telephone=====00229-97011428
1.YOUR FULL NAME===========
2.YOUR HOME ADDRESS==========
3.YOUR CURRENT HOME TELEPHONE NUMBER===========
4.YOUR CURRENT OFFICE TELEPHONE===========5.A COPY OF YOUR PICTURE===============
Thanks and Remain Blessed.Barr.Hill John.
Sorry, I only deal in Euros or Yen.
This video amuses me. It's almost fun to get in on the Obamatrain now.
I wanted to write something clever and scintillating but a trip to Orlando wiped me out today. Leiha invited me to eat Korean and then take a sidetrip to Nordstrum to return these fabulous fuck-me boots. Food is a good bribery to get me on a roadtrip. Asian food is a dealmaker when it comes to shopping. Remember this.
Anyway, that trip? Was all about calories. When we finally reached my front door and after hitting the remote, Leiha had to lean over and pull the car door handle, then roll me out of the vehicle. It was a delicate procedure. Using the intricate science of momentum, I was able to time my slow roll so that I got through the garage door without crashing into it. Then, head against my rolypoly sides, Bad Puppy had to push me across the room with his dogfu.
It didn't take long before I subsided into a pile of exhausted lard and lay there till, oh, half-an-hour ago. Now that I'm awake, I feel totally disgusting. I still feel like a giant ball of lard. I think I need to go running to get my humanity back.
You know that's also a sign of old age, don't you? When you can't eat as much as you used to.
I'm doomed.
***************************************
P/S The title of the post came from a song in a ridiculous movie from the early 80s that I saw in film class. I can't remember much about it but that song pops up in my brain whenever I least expect it. I guess that makes it memorable.
We nap. After many attempts to divert Mommy's attention, Bad Puppy sulks and dreams of killing bunnies and his next romance book hero.
Me, I'm in bed with Grey in Joanna Bourne's The Spymaster's Lady. Scandalous, but he is so. Irresistible. Spies, the Revolution, the next invasion, France and England, and the deadliest female spy to chase after. What a great historical (hero) to sink one's teeth in on a dreary, rainy day.
Grey's calling me again. He's magnifique!
It's Thursday. That's garbage day in my neighborhood. I ran out this morning because it's customary for me to chase the garbage truck in my nighties and sleephair. Well, today, I had to run pass a cop car, dragging my trash behind me, shoeless and out of breath.
The garbage dudes were laughing. Of course they were. They live to see me do this almost every Thursday. The cop leaned out of the window and said, "Are you the bag lady these guys are always telling me about?"
No, he didn't look like this pic, but this cop was eye-candy. Killer smile. Pretty green eyes. Too bad I didn't have my camera with me. Too bad I LOOKED like a bag lady. Can one get arrested for wearing holey nighties? I have to remember to go to sleep dressed better on Weds. nights....
Blogger has been having issues all day. At one point I can't even access this blog. Now I can't post any pictures.
I was wondering...do you guys back up your own blogs? If so, how do you do it? By cutting and pasting, or with some kind of software? Because, what if Blogger gets attacked by some kind of malware which deletes, let's say, 20 percent of the existing blogs? That's a lot of people affected!
Not that my posts are literature and must be kept for history, but I have blogged for almost four years (can you believe it?) and would like to have it as a keepsake in my hard drive. When I'm eighty, I could read some of the entries for my personal amusement and be that crazy old lady cackling on the rocking chair.
Besides, it would be a shock to wake up one morning and find your blog gone into thin cyberair and never coming back. That would definitely suck. Has that ever happen to anyone?
You see what happens when the uber roofer is out of work and the uber writer is having a bad day? She starts wondering about impending disasters. I think, tomorrow, I'd better go sit on a roof somewhere and at least pretend to be nailing. Maybe my mind will return to normal.
Don't the weirdest fears come to play in your mind when you should be doing something more important? Or is it just me?
The Alpha Male is still trying to get his knee bent at 90 degrees. The surgeon said he did it during the operation, but now, post-op, although the knee is fine, the thigh just above it hurts. It feels "tight" and he can't bend his leg without painfully stretching it. It's worrisome. He can't run or cycle or do anything he likes to do if he doesn't recover fully.
I hate being helpless and this is that kind of worry. There's nothing I can do to help him except pray that his muscle is just sore from surgery and will stretch easier when the inflammation is gone.
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I'm trying to make it to this year's Romantic Times Convention, but with no roofing work lately, I think it's not do-able. I apologize to the readers who have been planning to see me at the Book Fair. I really, really want to go. It's the 25th anniversary and will definitely be one grand affair. Do you know that Fabio (yes, he who threatened my George Clooney) and ADRIAN PAUL are going to be attending? Not that I can afford the ticket to "dine" with them, of course.
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My reading this week:
The Devil Inside by Jenna Black (urban fantasy)
The Spymaster's Lady by Joanna Bourne (historical) ***Can't put this one down!
What's yours?
The Questions I Get....
Jenn, why do you call your poms Mutant Poms?
Today, an acquaintance at Shit and Grits recommended me as a roofer for his neighbor, who's looking to replace his roof soon. This person called me and I went to his house to give a quote. After climbing up on his roof, examined its condition, and looking for possible rotten wood, I gave a summary of my findings and a quote.
This man looked me straight in the eye and said, "So my friend tells me you're a published author, with, like, six or seven books. Surely you don't need that much money. How about taking a thousand dollars off the price?"
I don't think I've ever lost roofing business on the account of me being a published author before. I wasted $3.25 on gas that I could have spent on icecream, dammit.
Do you remember when I posted about Fabio's and MY George Clooney's almost-catfight at a restaurant? George thought Fabio's fans were taking photos of him and his girlfriend and he made some rude noises which prompted Fabio to call MY George a diva and threatened to bash MY George's face in.
George Clooney, during an interview recently, had laughingly admitted that yeah, Fabio, being so Big and Tall, could have hurt him: "There is a moment when you are actually in the argument and you're thinking, 'If I do get beaten down by Fabio, that will be far worse than the pain. I wouldn't shake that.'"
You have to read this ARTICLE. It shows off MY GEORGE's great sense of humor. Don't you just love him?
Victoria Dahl, who writes sexy historical romances (check out her book covers), gave me permission to post her version of the Clooney-Fabio fight. As you can see, Victoria has mad Photoshop skillz.
Thanks, Victoria! This calls for a LOLFabio-Clooney caption.
I CAN HAZ CLOONEY'S ASS!
Now I'd love to see that on a romance cover. Maybe with George wrapped around Fabio's leg. Bwahahaha.
Question: Should I take the chat area at the bottom of the page out? It IS rather small for a big chatting crowd, but three or four people can have a good time without the board going off-screen too fast. This way, if you have a quick question for me I can leave a longer answer in the chat area. What do you think?
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The time change always messes me up. I wake up thinking I have an extra hour and I don't. Like, it's almost 9am now and I feel behind already. It's 8am, feeding time! Grrr.
I spent the weekend writing, which make me very happy. I need to do more of this writing thing.
One email came in last week telling me that I don't talk about my books and characters enough on my blog. She said that the COMCEN Blog, Kirkland Files, and Intermundia posts are great, but I don't answer any reader's questions. She meant Gennita Low the author. She's fine with all the fun information with, and interaction between, COMCEN and readers, but she'd like more dissection from my point of view.
See, that's a tough call. I think readers would find it tedious if I "dissect" my books non-stop. I can talk about the characters when there is a chat going on, but for a daily blog post? That would be dull, wouldn't it? To be honest, I'm not even sure how exactly to resolve this problem because there's an inherent part of me that loves to accommodate my readers. What they want, I try to provide, within reason.
Do you feel a need for me to have a weekly GIMME A QUESTION about my books session? Like, perhaps, I ask for a question to be posted in the Shoutbox and I'll use that as a springboard for a longer post for the day. Is that something you'd like as a reader?
Just groping around here. In a non-sexual way, I mean, heh.
You may grope HIM if you like --> --> -->
Oh yeah. Angels. That reminds me. I have a snarling limping demon to deal with today.
This is what we did yesterday in our "picking out the lines" game:
She taught us what Delauney had taught her--the art of covertcy. One day, when Charles and Catherine and I were all in attendance, she blindfolded all of us and bid us to wander the manor's estate for an hour's time. We were to report back on all we had observed while deprived on sight, including each other's doings.
"Should take a hit all right, but now I can't get the damn gun to work."
"Zakalwe," the drone sighed. "It would hardly be surprising if it isn't working...."
"Ah." He bobbed his head. "I will remember that."
"Your unfortunate colors can be debated later, Lord Nottingham."
"We met three weeks ago on a Caribbean cruise, fell into a heated affair and have been inseparable since."
"That's pretty much true." Except he'd left out the breaking-up-in-London part.
"What set you off?"
"He gave me the creeps," she said sheepishly, scowling at her banana as she peeled back the skin. She took a bite and chewed, regrouping mentally. 3 tbs whole fennel seeds. 2 sticks cinnamon, broken into small pieces. 1 tsp whole black peppercorn.
'You won't mistake his house' he said, 'it is hard by the church facing the quay. You can see it from the quayside from here. There's a light upon it now."
She felt hot and cold where he touched her. She caught her lower lip to stop a moan. There was still time. She could still back away. if she chose to. She didn't.
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Intriguing! Wonder which one of them is the drone....
Alpha Male gives thanks to those who sent prayers and healing thoughts. He's alert right now, in pain, but alert and ATTEMPTING to bend his knee with weights. The doctor said he dug out a ""hella junk scar tissue." I wonder what scar tissue looks like? (shudder)
I'll update more as soon as I can tell that the morphine is really out of his system. You know how it is...it feels "okay" now and he thinks he isn't in as much pain as everyone kept telling him he'd be; he thinks he must tougher than those other poor suffering devils. Then, WHOMP! The morphine dissipates and we get the real rawness coming through. (shudder)
But thank you for your kind thoughts and prayers. It's working. I haven't had the need to say "poor lil' bunny" yet.
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Here's a good Saturday distraction:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
I won't tag but would love y'all to post here (and pass on to friends, if you want). Let me start:
My nearest book is Kushiel's Scion by Jacqueline Carey.
Pg. 123, fifth, sixth and seventh sentences are:
She taught us what Delauney had taught her--the art of covertcy. One day, when Charles and Catherine and I were all in attendance, she blindfolded all of us and bid us to wander the manor's estate for an hour's time. We were to report back on all we had observed while deprived on sight, including each other's doings.
Your turn! What's your nearest book, go get it!
Been Up Worrying. Thinking.
And it rained all night.
Had to be at the hospital by 6am. During sleep my brain still thought too damn much.
How do I feel right now?
BrrrrrrAaaIiiiiNns!
Courtesy of Vanessa Jay, who knows I love all things Buffy and Whedon.
BUFFY EATS MUFFY
Whedon claims it's just a one-time, girl experimenting thing. Oh, LIKE ANITA BLAKE, huh?
Sheesh. I don't know what to say. Except maybe Whedon should consider a threesome next time? Angel-Buffy-Spike. Yeah, just experimenting, Whedon, come on!
Tomorrow, the Alpha Male goes back into surgery. Ten holes around the non-healing knee and an attempt to blast the scar tissue that way. The doctor will try to bend his knee while he's out. If that fails, he'll have to cut.
OW.
OW.
OWWWWWWW.
This procedure will require morphine that would last for ten hours after surgery so he doesn't wake up screaming, I guess. After that, he's to go straight into rehabilitation for PAIN MANAGEMENT. Because the idea is to make sure that leg bends, there will be no "recuperative" time, like previously. So pain is the constant companion. And crutches are back.
Poor, poor Alpha Male. He's been doing the manly shrug thing, like, well, what can he do, so let's not think about it. But me, I think. Cos, you know, that's my job ;-). I think I'll invite him for a game of soccer this evening, whadd'ya say?
Send good SUCCESSFUL OPERATION thoughts tomorrow, pretty please? I'll just have to start preparing myself for another few months of Alpha Male In Pain.
New knowledge of the day: You haven't been reading books. In fact, you have been reading stuff that are sort of like Soduku or Hustler Magazine.
While discussing/ranting about a particularly stupid and misogynist Washington Post article by a woman whose premise is "women really are dumb" (and she wasn't joking), a popular political blogger wrote:
"romance novels*...are not "books", as that word is normally used. They are either tools for relaxation or the female equivalent of porn. They should therefore be compared not to War and Peace, but to either Ultimate Sudoku or the Hustler centerfold."
"So I hate to stand up in the middle of a good rant.
But, well, although I've never worked on romance novels myself -- although I've worked on stuff with cross-over appeal for a variety of companies -- I spent years working as an editor for a company, Avon Books, whose bread and butter was romance novels, as well as freelancing for many years with my houses with romance lines.
I worked every day for years side-by-side with romance editors. We had offices and desks next to each other, just a couple of handfuls of editors. I learned a fair amount about the field, and its similarities and differences to other genre fiction over the years.
What Hilzoy said is, I regret to say, a load of class-based, ignorant, anti-genre, elitist, crap. It's the identical kind of crap dumped ono genre writers of every sort, be they mystery writers, sf or fantasy writers, children's books writers, romance book writers, or what have you.
In every genre, there's a lot of crap, there's a lot of mediocre stuff, there's some good stuff, there's some great stuff, and there's some occasionally brilliant stuff. That's as true of the genre of "literature," or "mainstream" fiction as it is of any flavor of fiction or nonfiction.
There are no firm boundaries or borders between genres, and there's no homogenity of quality whatever.
There are no divisions into "this genre is all worthy" and "this genre is such garbage that we can't even call what we put it in "books," let alone call the producers "writers."
[...] "Second, romance novels are not 'books', as that word is normally used. They are either tools for relaxation or the female equivalent of porn. They should therefore be compared not to War and Peace, but to either Ultimate Sudoku or the Hustler centerfold." And what does that make the writers, and the editors?
This is seriously offensive stuff, Hilzoy. How would you feel about someone writing a rant like this about philosophy professors, and their work?
Should I give you some phone numbers of romance novel writers and editors, so you can tell them you've carefully considered their careers, their decades of work, and their individual novels, and that you've evaluated them, distinguishing the quality of one writer and none novel from the next thoughtfully, and that this is your valuation and verdict on their work? Or should they just come by the blog, maybe after some links, to read your opinion of what they do?
I hope you'll consider rewriting this. I realize that I'm really seriously offended by it; wait until some of the actual romance folks see it, if you want a real unhappy reaction.
But it turns out that us folks who produce such horrible and worthless nonliterature are actually really people, who have weird delusions that their work isn't pseudo-porn trash to be pissed on by people who feel superior to it, and to its readers.
The upper end of the romance genre is Jane Austen. What's appealing is the stories, and the characters, and the writing. Want to pick on an individual work, or writer, as lousy? Fine. Go do it.
Want to trash an entire genre, and all its writers and readers?
This arouses unwelcome responses, including impulsive and rude imperative suggestions involving recommended actions, that I shall decline to make.
But they weren't terribly original suggestions, and thus I leave them to dwell in the reader's imagination.
Ironically -- but not -- War And Piece is stuffed with romance genre elements, by the way."
Want to read something different? Try Grimspace, a space/science fiction romance, by Ann Aguirre. The plot, involving space travel, conjures up many delightful elements one would find in television shows like Whedon's Firefly, Futurama, Babylon Five, and even a very twisted version of Star Trek. Written in FIRST PERSON PRESENT, we see the world through the heroine's eyes, and Aguirre really did a fabulous job using the most difficult of point-of-views.
A first-person story has to be intense to keep a reader's attention and the character has to be intriguing enough for the reader to want to stay in her head. Sirantha Jax, the heroine in Grimspace, is definitely layered and intriguing. As a "jumper," she has a unique gene that enables her to guide the space pilot (ala the Navigators in Frank Herbert's Dune series, except without the melange/spice) through space. She works for a Consortium that has the stranglehold on space travel (also very Dune-ish) and at the beginning of the novel, she's in confinement, having somehow managed to cause the deaths of an entire spaceship filled with VIPs, along with her pilot-lover.
So, in the beginning, we see Jax in a not very happy time of her life. Enters March. Renagade. Savior. Maybe even Avenger. Jax isn't sure. But he gives her a choice--leave with him or die being interrogated. Jax chooses the former.
From here, the story settles into an action-packed planetary chase that moves the plot of conspiracy, Jax's role in it, and March's plans for her. What saves the story from becoming another planetary exploration ala Star Trek type tale is Jax's voice. Done in first person, she has the feel of an urban fantasy heroine, a snarky, daredevil, and distrustful voice that keeps the reader on the edge because everything and everyone around her seems to be using or hiding something from her. Jax is kick-ass without being too tough and smart-ass without being overly snarky. She's also surprisingly comfortable in her own skin because when she finds out that in "jumping" with her new pilot, March, there is the side effect of him being able to read her thoughts. March, it seems, has hidden PSI talents. That doesn't even scare our girl here; she, unlike him, has nothing to hide except her own demon, the knowledge that she'd caused so many deaths.
Sometimes not being able to read the other characters' POV, esp. the hero's, irritates me. Sometimes too much heroine POV becomes a whine-fest. I didn't find either problem with Grimspace. Jax grows as a person when she realizes she isn't just a tool for space travel. March's slow capitulation into letting Jax into his mind is a pleasure to watch (read). There's not enough of it, but hey, give this couple a few more bedromps.
The romance itself isn't very romantic. There are, like I said, some urban fantasy elements, such as Jax's still grieving her dead lover while wanting March as a man. It doesn't bother me, but may bother some traditional readers. The ending is very satisfying, though, and the leap from an "arranged marriage" (as jumpers and pilots are bonded psychically) to real deep love is very believable.
The worldbuilding is standard space opera, twisting familiar words to convey food and strange beasts. Choclaste immediately gives you an idea, yes? For some reason, the word "fragging" (which was used a lot, e.g. "frag you" and "what the frag") kept taking me out of the story. It's...a bit out-of-character for world-wearied renegades, who've lost many of their loved ones (there are tragic endings in this book), and who are also able to rough up and kill when they need to. Just a minor quibble.
So, if you don't mind cyber-talk and spaceship quarters, if you're looking for something other than werewolves and vampires, I highly recommend Grimspace. Loved the heroine's sense of humor. Loved her journey of self-discovery. And still crying about Baby Z :::boohoo:::
So, what have you guys been reading? Your turn!
This headline in my local newspaper cracked me up today:
ARE YOU LIVING DANGEROUSLY? MORE PEOPLE DRIVING WITHOUT SEATBELTS.
Hahahahahahahha.
Half-million bikers in my town, most of them without helmets, almost 100 percent have alcohol in their blood system, and it's those folks without seatbelts living dangerously?
Heh heh heh heh heh.
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I'm watching the trailer for 10,000B.C. ? Yo. People then had better teeth and bodies than present day dudes, or what? I guess, we can't have big flabby dudes running around in their furry underwear (without bouncing), climbing giant pyramid-like structures (without panting), and trying to outrun the bad guys (without sweating profusely). The whole CGI trailer--not one ugly BC dude, man.
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Are you watching the new TV series premiere, New Amsterdam, coming on tomorrow? Immortal cop, looking for his twue love to break the "blessing" of not ever dying. I heard it's full of snarky comments and the trailers for the show looked interesting.
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Question of the week: How did I end up with two English papers to type for Ranger Buddy? Oh yeah...he can't type. Sigh.
Why do you think YOU end up doing some of your boys' (young and older) stuff? Is it the maternity complex in us? The nurture factor?
MAY 07
