August 31, 2006
Since I write comedy, I think a lot about laughter. We should all laugh every chance we get, just to feel good. Watch a comedy, laugh at yourself, laugh with your family. Laugh with the one you love, especially during sex play. Laughter in bed is like the light foreplay that leads to the heavy good-stuff kind of foreplay. Just don’t laugh when things get hot and heavy, because someone might think his performance isn’t UP to par, and said PERFORMANCE just might shrink. Oops!
In The Scot, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Vickie–a loose-canon witchcraft-wise–doesn’t like her body very much, so every time she’s tried to hop into bed with a guy, something painful happens to him before he gets her clothes off–broken beds, concussions, fire alarms, sprained ankles… You get the drift. Now our hero, Rory MacKenzie from Scotland, is determined that sex is actually going to happen between them, but oh the torture, the insults, the laughter–the kilted highland fling sans underwear–that man suffers in the name of heroism between the sheets. Which reminds me that I have to finish the galleys for that book today. Yikes.
Comedy, I have discovered, is an art form. Whoever said laughter is the best medicine was right. I’ve been studying comedy–a delightful hobby–and have found myself hooked on some old and current TV sitcoms. One of them is THE NANNY. Great writing, sexual tension. Fast, witty comebacks, and THE NANNY reminds me of my witches–sassy, suggestive and with good taste in clothes. TWO AND A HALF MEN is a hoot a minute, sharp unexpected comebacks, nonstop, though the last couple of shows rather overdid the bathroom jokes, I thought. Hope that’s not a new trend. COUPLING is a Britcom, unique, sharp witted sex play, and anything goes. I love its no-bounds innuendo. Everyone’s old favorite, FRIENDS, is of course, a huge favorite. All of these comedies have one thing in common: they’re bawdy. Gee, what a surprise. You can learn a lot about comedy from all of them, and you’ll feel plain old happy while you do. FRIENDS adds lessons in characterization, and MONK is funny because the comedy comes strictly from the eccentricities of the character. All of the above are either captured daily on my DVR or as in FRIENDS, I own every season on DVD. Total entertainment, every one.
I’d like to add to my list. What are your favorite TV or movie comedies and why?
www.annetteblair.com
August 30, 2006
The title is deceptive, because it would lead you to believe that I either have a method of kickstarting my morning or that maybe I’m a morning person. Huh uh. Morning is not my friend. My routine, if you can call it that, is to wake up bleary eyed, check my watch then curse because, damn it, it’s already time to get up and get the kids ready for school.
I stumble around, daydreaming about getting to go back to bed. (this never happens so Im not sure why I waste my time torturing myself over it) Formerly, I’d drink a coke in the mornings. This was my "coffee" fix since I never developed a liking for motor oil, er uh I mean coffee. I can’t get past the smell. In recent years, however, I gave up cola all together, which means I had no caffeine fix in the A.M. (maybe that’s my problem)
Now I have an addiction, ok we’ll call it a strong LIKING, for juices in the A.M. Particularly orange or grape. And I’m picky about what kind. The grape MUST be welch’s and the OJ must be minute maid low pulp. Is there anything worse than taking a huge gulp of juice only to get a moutful of pulp?? If I wanted to eat the damn thing, I’d peel my own.
So, basically my morning so far has been a wake up ten minutes late. An agonizing roll out of bed. A trudge to the kids room to mumble for them to get up. Pack lunches, fix breakfast, make sure they have everything they need for school, drive them to their respective campuses, grumbling about dumbass drivers the entire way, return home, collapse into my writing chair with a big ole glass of OJ. Ahhhh, my one bright part of the morning.
So are you one of those disgusting morning people? You know the bright, chipper CHEERFUL sort? (My husband is, God help me) And are you a coffee, cola or juice person? Name your poison.
August 29, 2006
Did I get your attention? Sorry, no sex talk today—I’ll leave that up to those Berkley Babes who write dynamite erotica  . But about those happily ever after endings—have you ever thought about how important they are to your reading experience? And how often you’re inclined to re-read a HEA book? I just finished reading My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult. It was an amazing book, one that blew me away. She is an incredible, brilliant writer. I will probably read some of her other books, even though 99.9% of the time, I read romances. To be honest, I’m not sure reading only romance is a good thing, for either a writer or a reader. I think we need to step out of our comfort zones, outside the box, from time to time, and mentally stretch. I know I need to do that. But while My Sister’s Keeper was brilliant, and heart-rending, and impossible to put down, it did not have a comfortable ending. I’ve been thinking about the story and the characters since I finished the book a week ago, and I feel a profound sadness that not everything worked out. I really wanted things to work out for those people (and yes, they were, and are, very real to me). But there was no warm and fuzzy ending with this one. I’m glad I read the book, but . . . I probably won’t re-read it.
I find that’s the case with a lot of mainstream books that deal with uncomfortable topics and insist on keeping the spotlight on some of the very real and sad/horrifying/difficult issues in today’s society. I also find I don’t generally enjoy stories that are “the depressing, ugly side of humanity” kinds of stories. The same with movies. When I put down a book or walk out of the movie theater, I want to be smiling. I want to feel good! That’s one reason I don’t watch the news. Why should I dump all that negative crap (especially since I can’t do a darned thing about the vast majority of it) into my psyche?
That’s the beauty of the romance genre. It’s positive, upbeat, has hope, love, and empowerment. Sure, a lot of stories tackle some very difficult and gritty issues, but the focus is on the positive possibilities. Obstacles can be overcome, emotional issues can be faced, and love can provide the strength and courage to keep living. Wow. What a powerful message. Why should we focus on the negativity in this world, or wallow in the darkness, when we can instead look for the positive aspects and reach for the light? Hey, where’s that light switch? I’m going for it every time. Give me a good romance with an HEA—not a perfect ending, just a positive one.
Those are the books I will definitely re-read—time and again, if they’re my favorites. When I was younger, I re-read The Flame and the Flower and The Wolf and the Dove, by Kathleen Woodiwiss, until they were dog eared. I’ve re-read most of Linda Howard’s books, ditto for Susan Elizabeth Phillips. The same with Christine Feehan, J.R. Ward, and Elizabeth Vaughn, and *many* others. I want that “feel-good” fix, to fall in love with (and lust after) the hero, the chemistry between the hero and heroine, the conflict that appears insurmountable, the emotion, and the final resolution.
The one that says all is right with the world. Because in the madness and uncertainty of our world today, there’s still hope.
So what are some of your favorite books, the ones you turn to again and again when you want that “comfort read”?
Here’s wishing all of you a mountainous TBR pile of HEA books to give you that warm glow inside and make you smile.
~ Catherine
August 28, 2006
This week I had galleys to read. For a novella called, “Bond of Silver,” in a December Berkley anthology called UNLEASHED.
As I was working, I realized that the least favorite parts of writing for me are the first draft and the galleys. I hate facing a blank page. So I write my first draft as fast as I can. Once I get that draft, I can edit it within an inch of its life. Every book I write goes through four or five edits. One on the screen and then three or four on paper. That’s just the way I work. I can’t get the story and the characters all at once. I have to layer my way into a good story. And doing those layers is incredibly satisfying to me.
Then–months later–I get the galleys, and I see lots of places where I have word repetitions or sentences that seem awkward. And I feel like-–at the galley stage–I shouldn’t be finding so many things that make me cringe.
Sigh. Maybe I’m too much of a perfectionist. I tend to focus on what’s wrong rather than what’s right.
If you’re a writer, what do you like best about the process? And what do you like least?
To be brutally honest, the best part for me is when I’ve sold a book–and I don’t have to start writing it yet! <g>
The good news is that I enjoyed reading “Bond of Silver.” It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, and I had that usual experience with galleys: "I wrote that?”
The story is about a man from New Atlantis, which is in the Caribbean. The inhabitants left the Greek mainland eons ago because they were persecuted for their psychic powers. They now hide their island with a force field. But they need more psychics to help them maintain the field. So they send their young men and women out into the world in dreams–to hook up with a partner who also has psychic powers. If the meeting is successful, they go out to bring the person back.
Naturally, the couple I’m writing about have terrible problems working out their relationship. It’s complicated. Her mother bonded with his adoptive father. But she was afraid to go back to New Atlantis with him. She had her daughter alone and has guarded her jealously ever since. And she almost kills the young lovers as she tries to stop her daughter from leaving.
It’s a very emotional story, with what I hope is a big surprise at the end.
And I had a good time with the psychic element. My hero is telekinetic. So he can start kissing and touching the heroine when he’s still standing on the other side of the room. And when they are in bed together, he can touch her intimately in more than two places at once. Very convenient for him!
And fun for me.
August 27, 2006
That’s supposed to be me, if you haven’t figured it out yet. Oh, you haven’t? Well, I guess that makes sense, because I haven’t figured it out yet either!
How do other writers do it? I’d like to know. REALLY. The other night I had a major deadline and I thought I was going to make it, no sweat. I got up early that morning and cranked. But one thing led to another (I’m visiting my inlaws and at the mercy of dial-up and WordPerfect - I didn’t know either still existed) and before you could say "faster-than-a-speeding-bullet," it was midnight and I had a sleeping baby in my lap as I stared bleary-eyed at the computer screen. I actually considered getting out my checkbook and sending back my advance to Berkley because it seemed like a near-certainty that they would ask for it back.
The funny thing is, as I sat there despondent with my 7-month old son (my 5 1/2 year old was sleeping peacefully in the other room, thank God), I thought of an email one of my sister-in-laws sent me when I first announced that GOOD THINGS was going to be published. It went along the lines of, "You see? You can have it all." She was referring to family, marriage, career, writing. My first response was pure annoyance, probably because at that particular moment I had piles of laundry and hadn’t taken a shower in a week (okay, three days). Then I was suspicious - was she being sarcastic? (Typical sister-in-law drama.) I finally relaxed a bit and decided that she was sincere and kind to have even sent me a note at all. Then, as I re-read her email, I concluded that she must be a near genius. As she signed off, she added, "It just takes longer, that’s all."
In my case, ten years longer. Writers often lament about their prolonged first sale - it took me ten years (TEN YEARS, in case anyone missed that), to get my act together. So, yes, I suppose we can have it all … eventually. And if you saw me this morning at the UPS store as I finagled my final copyedited manuscript (5 pounds of gobbley gook), a stroller, a car seat, and two bags of back-to-school clothing (okay, there was some new make-up in one of the bags - I’m going to give the Bare Minerals line a try), you’d have been impressed. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? I’m all over it.
Mia King, author of GOOD THINGS: A Novel, available February 2007 by Berkley Trade. $14.00 ISBN: 0425213714
August 25, 2006
Are you interesting?
Ever since I learned to write, I’ve become a picky, picky reader. Usually, I flip through a book and check out the prose before I make a purchase—if an author is sloppy or lazy, I don’t want to read it. Mistakes drive me crazy. I mean, I’m positive that I’m not perfect myself, though I am always striving to be as good as I can be. I’m make an effort though—a big one—to provide my readers with quality writing as well as terrific stories, and it’s the books I see hastily written and chucked onto the shelves that I don’t want to read.
So why, why, why! do I see "bad" books getting stellar reviews? Hitting the best seller lists? How do these books even get bought when I struggled for years to make a sale? Until recently, this also drove me a little nutty.
Then I bought the worst/best book ever. I won’t name names, at the risk of insulting one of my peers, but the writing sucked. The plotting was almost unbearable—with huge flashbacks and unbelievable characters. But the premise was interesting, so I gave it a try. Turns out, the whole story was interesting, and despite myself, I couldn’t stop reading. In fact, I read it twice. And there it sits, on my keeper shelf, as a constant reminder: clean writing and a good story may be important, but above and beyond all else, a book must be interesting.
What’s your take?
August 24, 2006
We all have bad days, you know the sort, where nothing seems to go right and you wish you hadn’t got up at all. Here in Yorkshire, they call it a “mare” of a day, like a nightmare. I like that description. It happened to me last week. My printer died at the most inopportune moment, just as I was trying to print out my RWA membership form. On top of that, I couldn’t find the most recent version of a file I needed, and my email kept bouncing. I was having a “mare” of a day. In fact after a couple of hours of accumulative chaos, I was ranting like a crazed old crone. Not a good state of creative mind to be in.  I knew what I needed to do – get out of the house. So I drove out across the moors to visit a small village about 12 miles away from where I live, Howarth. Isn’t it pretty?
Howarth is much as it would have been in Victorian times. Built on a steep hillside, the cobbled streets and tumbling stone cottages really take you back in time. As you might imagine, it’s a popular tourist spot nowadays, with gift shops, teashops and regular historical weekends. At the top of the village is the vicarage, now a museum. As you take in the ambiance, you can feel the history rising from the cobbles beneath your feet, sense the timelessness from the view of the moor on the horizon. Beautiful. Of course it’s not quite as it would have been in the 19th Century. There are modern conveniences; the Victorians didn’t have such luxury. They also didn’t have reliable transport. When you drive into the village on the steep, winding road, you are reminded that this would once have been a virtually inaccessible dirt track.
No electricity, no running water. And yet this village is special, very special, because this is the place where the Bronte sisters wrote some of the most enduring novels ever to have been published. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Agnes Grey. Yes, I go there because I feel humbled.
 With precious pages of paper and ink, their magical, memorable stories were written. That’s it. No gadgets, and no conveniences. And here am I bemoaning my life. I hang my head in shame, pay homage, then I come home and type like the wind, grateful to have a PC. I even give it a hug.  I feel lucky to have the email service that I was cursing just hours before. I forgive the printer for packing it all in, and thank it for its previous efforts on my behalf. Sometimes you have to step back from life to appreciate it properly. Follow the link below to take a virtual tour round the Bronte home, and don’t forget to give your PC a hug afterwards.
Take the virtual tour
Read the history
August 23, 2006
Notwithstanding Einstein’s theories about it or Britney Spears’ belief that some of us are already doing it (yikes!), time travel would be an interesting way to spend a vacation. Robert Silverberg played with the idea in his 1960’s science fiction novel, Time Tours, and as Saskia mentioned in an earlier blog (which inspired this one along with Julia’s blog about the popularity of woo-woo, which I love), one of Saskia’s favorite reads was H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. I loved what she said about being a young bookworm when she’d read it and felt horrified at the idea of books crumbling to dust on the shelves as centuries pass. (Note to Pulitzer committee: in the end, we all turn to pulp!)
Of all the things to witness in history (the painting of the Sistine Chapel, the signing of the Declaration of Independence). Of all the famous people to have a drink with (William Shakespeare, Samuel Clemens, Teddy Roosevelt). Share a spot of tea with (Jane Austen, Agatha Christie). Or to spend the night with (Benjamin Franklin—yes, that’s right, I’d choose one of America’s Founding Fathers, who also happened to be a notorious Hellfire Club rake). Of all the astounding things to view (the Age of Dinosaurs, Orville and Wilbur’s 12 seconds above Kitty Hawk, NC, Neil Armstrong’s first step on the moon), I’d have to say, my use of a time travel machine would most definitely take me to…
Las Vegas, Nevada, the Sands Hotel, on any night the Rat Pack was performing. Yep. Seeing Frank and Dean and Sammy up there on stage being the coolest cats who ever crooned in a casino would make my time travel getaway worthwhile. I’d put on a long, retro-sparkly gown, white gloves, wrestle my hair into some sort of bouffant, make friends with a dangerous Sean Connery-like tuxedoed high roller at the craps table, then settle into a red banquette. I’d order up a tall pink drink with a cute, little umbrella. He’d get that masculine martini, shaken not stirred. Count Basie would lift his magic wand and Voila! magic.
Then they’d appear on stage, one by one. Dean Martin would joke around, Sammy Davis, Jr, would dazzle with amazing footwork, and finally Frank Sinatra would stroll out, tumbler in one hand, bow tie undone—lounge lizard royalty. No longer bobby-soxer bait, he’d be middle-aged and boiled harder than India rubber, yet still young enough to have a voice smoother and sweeter than melted caramels when he’d begin to sing…
“It’s quarter to three, there’s no one in the place except you and me. So set ’em up, Joe, I’ve got a little story I think you should know. We’re drinkin’ my friend…to the end…of a brief episode. So, make it one for my baby, and one more for the road…”
Right. That would do it for me. Going back, just for one evening, to hear Frank sing. Just one night…when men and women danced cheek to cheek; when the songs had lyrics that were truly beautiful, that made your heart ache; when the sexiest movie star alive, Marilyn Monroe, wore a size 14; the Oscar winning tune of the year didn’t have a title that even remotely sounded like “It’s Hard Out There Bein’ a Pimp”; your Broadway Show date picked you up in a black dinner jacket; and coolness was an idea that had absolutely nothing to do with workout clothes, videogames, or the latest electronics gadget.
Yeah, “Fly Me to the Moon” Mr. Time Machine to hear Frank singing “One for My Baby” “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning” at the Sands.
Where would you go in a time machine? Who would you want to have a drink with? Or spend the night with? (And Shhhhh! Don’t tell Britney. She already suspects us!)
P.S. To actually hear Count Basie and Frank LIVE at the Sands (per the remastered recoding on CD, that is), put this in your latest cuckoo-crazy listening device and smoke it, baby! It’s time travel via 21st Century electronics! (Sinatra at the Sands, Live link below)
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000006OBQ/sr=1-3/qid=1156273472/ref=pd_bbs_3/104-8427478-8920733?ie=UTF8&s=music
Cleo Coyle’s Latest Release…Coffeeehouse Mystery #4: Murder Most Frothy
August 22, 2006
So, my kids are back in school, which leaves me lots of free time that I’ve missed over the last 2 months. Time to clean, write, work out (will start soon, surely. Have to…organize socks first). But it’s also left me with too much time to think. So, for my post today, I give you… 10 THINGS THAT DRIVE ME CRAZY
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When a great book ends or a sucky book just won’t. 
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Reading a fantastic book. Why, you ask, would this drive me crazy? Well, for one, I’m left with that niggling feeling of, "I’ll never be able to write this well," and second, it’s hard for the next book to measure up, so I spend the next couple of weeks picking up and putting down several books because they just don’t capture me the way the previous one did. It forces me into reading dry-spells. 
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Reading a horrible book that I just spent 7/15/25 dollars on and feel obligated to finish because I just spent 7/15/25 dollars on it. 
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Dirt around my baseboards. Someone please explain how so much dirt gets pushed into the corners of my rooms? 
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Dog cycles. I have an 80 lb golden retriever who could surely benefit from the invention of doggie tampons right now. Did I mention I just got new furniture? 
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Fantastic story ideas with too many possibilities. I drive myself nuts thinking "what-if", until the story morphs into something unrecognizable, leaving me, again, with the original story and a new game of "what-if." 
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Florida. Sunshine state my a$$. I’m just sayin’…. 
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Laundry. It grows back over night. 
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My ten year old daughter running around the house singing, "Dontcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" There is something infinitely inappropriate about that. 
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Being a night owl.  Why is it that I can’t motivate myself to do jack during the day, but at eleven o’clock at night, I feel like cleaning the whole house from top to bottom and squeezing in a work-out while I’m at it? (Not saying I do it…just feel like it.)
So what drives you to pull your hair out?  I showed you mine..now you show me yours 
August 21, 2006
Today I’m going to talk about something very cool that’s happening with my book right now. Dear Author is running an experiment testing whether bloggers can have an effect on the real world market, and the book they picked for it is Slave to Sensation.
I think this is wonderful, for the simple reason that it is a reader-initiated project. I asked Jane at Dear Author to review Slave to Sensation and she liked it so much that she chose it for this experiment. That makes this somewhat unusual, as most promotional things are begun and run by authors. Here’s my question for today: as readers/writers/bloggers, what works for you? What kind of promotion do you like and what don’t you like?
Here are the details of the experiment. I hope some of you will join in!
I am participating in a blogging experiment hosted at dearauthor.com. To enter the contest, put up this blurb, image, and trackback and you are entered to win the following prize package.
- $200 Amazon gift certificate
- Signed copy of Slave to Sensation
- New Zealand goodies chosen by Singh
- ARC of Christine Feehan’s October 31 release: Conspiracy Game
You can read about the experiment here and you can download the code that you need to participate here.
SLAVE TO SENSATION
Nalini Singh
Berkley / September 2006
Welcome to a future where emotion is a crime and powers of the mind clash brutally against those of the heart.
Sascha Duncan is one of the Psy, a psychic race that has cut off its emotions in an effort to prevent murderous insanity. Those who feel are punished by having their brains wiped clean, their personalities and memories destroyed.
Lucas Hunter is a Changeling, a shapeshifter who craves sensation, lives for touch. When their separate worlds collide in the serial murders of Changeling women, Lucas and Sascha must remain bound to their identities…or sacrifice everything for a taste of darkest temptation.
Excerpt
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