Jun 24, 2007
I went to college with a girl who once declared, “I love little guys.” Unlike most of my contemporaries, she preferred short men. I, on the other hand, was plagued by guys who made me feel too big. I was 5’6” (notice, I say was—somehow I’m now down to 5’4 and almost ½” as I pack on the decades and the pounds) and rather robust. I wanted to feel delicate and petite. My 6’3” husband finally did the trick (but I think he’s shrinking too).
And I think opposites attract. I’m blonde (now courtesy of my hairdresser) and my husband is dark. Most of my heroes fall right into the tall, dark and handsome cliché, although Hart from Paradise is blond because he’s kind of an angel. Just like me.
What does your ideal man look like? I don’t want to hear any nonsense about good personality and sense of humor, kindness to kids and kittens. If you were creating a hero, tell me what color his eyes are and if he has a devilish grin. I’m assuming he has all his own teeth.
I require three things in a man. He must be handsome, ruthless and stupid. ~Dorothy Parker
Jun 19, 2007
School’s out, and I’m in.
I am making myself sit in a 9’x12’ room. There’s only one window, and I have to do a little Exorcist maneuver to look out it from my desk. I will write. I will not blog too much. That’s become easier since some of my favorite blogs have gone dark or have been cut back.
I will let myself read, though. And maybe pull some weeds in my perennial garden. I shouldn’t bask in the sun too long because I’ve had skin cancer, but I’ll put on plenty of sunscreen, grab a book and a can of Coke Zero. I’ll sit in the green resin Adirondack chair next to the raised bed garden and work on enhancing my Vitamin D quotient and my wrinkles. Watch the ants crawl all over the peonies. Swat at the flies. Listen to the hummingbirds sucking out nectar from some mysterious purple bush I have. Only after I’ve written. A lot.
That’s it. That’s summer (Except for a trip to Las Vegas, with my new laptop so I can write by the pool or in the room *g*.). What are your big plans?
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance. ~Bern Williams
Jun 17, 2007
Yes. It’s official. I’ve jumped.
Into the Paranormal Pool.
Just for fun I’ve submitted to Samhain’s On the Prowl category, which features shape-shifting cats.
Stop laughing right now. You remind me of my kids.
I find the idea very appealing—they’ve told me the concept they want and determined the 20,000-30,000 word count. I, who frequently get verrrry stuck around 60,000 words (as I am right now in Paradise), am delighted by this.
I’ve already written a slew of novellas. In a future blog, I’m going to condense them into one-sentence blurbs and you can be stunned by my range as a writer and snicker all you want. Not for nothing is my alterna-blog Begin As You Mean To Go On subtitled “prologues and first chapters from a genre- confused writer.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t see my way clear to inserting shape-shifting cats into anything I’ve already written without wanting to cough up a fur ball.
Now before you think I’m going to drown in the Paranormal Pool, let it be known that in my genre-bending book Third-Rate Romance, I do a little vampire riff. Here’s a snippet:
Lucien stirred, his sleep disturbed. A noise below. Not the scrabbling of the manor mice. A human noise.
His hunger. It overwhelmed him. The housekeeper would have left him something in the larder. Someone else better not be eating it.
He flung the tapestry counterpane from his bed. The moon had already risen beyond the window, orange as a Tangier melon. But it had been years since he left his country estate. His life was bound here, tied in knots as intricate as a spider’s web.
Lucien belted his velvet robe over his lean, naked body. He padded barefoot down the stairs, not feeling the chill of the worn stones. The only thing he knew was the hunger, nearly painful in its intensity.
The noise again. A rustle. A thud. A soft curse.
His body vanished against the wall, the shadows in his kitchen elongated by a single taper. All of Lucien’s senses were on full alert. He frowned, concentrating on the candle. It flickered once and extinguished.
“Damnation!”
The voice was young, female. Ripe. She smelled fresh, like apples. But she was hungry, too. A state she was not used to, for Lucien could nearly touch the soft swelling of well-nourished flesh beneath her woolen cloak. Delicious.
So, cats, vampires, they’ve all got teeth, right?
What’s your very favorite genre to read or write? Have you ever tried something that is completely outside your area of expertise? I’m still trying to find where my area of expertise is. I seem to have misplaced it.
Jun 16, 2007
There is nothing so sweet or sexy than watching a guy with a little kid. According to MSN’s Erika Rasmusson Janes, here are the signs to look for if you’re wondering if your man is dad-material.
1. He treats his mother well.
2. He’s selfless.
3. He’s not easily grossed out.
4. He’s a great uncle.
5. He doesn’t mind taking direction from his partner.
6. He likes ketchup.
Now, go forth and multiply! Happy Father’s Day! Any favorite fathers in favorite books?
A father carries pictures where his money used to be. ~Author Unknown
Jun 14, 2007
I have been tagged by several people on this Eight Random Facts thing. There are rules. I can’t follow them. I don’t have eight people to tag because they’ve already tagged me. If I tag them back we’ll all wind up revealing 64 random facts right on up to infinity, which is a sideways 8, as I have previously posted below in Eight Days a Week. Whew. But I will do my quasi-confession, just for the fun of it. You will be astounded and stupefied with the knowledge, I’m sure.
1. I skipped fifth and seventh grades, graduated from high school at 15 and college at 19. For this reason, I always feel like the youngest person in the room even when I am really the oldest. And I’m still smart enough to know I’m definitely not the smartest.
2. I dropped out of an MSW graduate school program when my work study required me to drive a blind social worker around and I didn’t have a driver’s license. She would have been a better driver.
3. I was a Brownie but never flew up. Cookies were only 40 cents a box when I sold them.
4. I was Alice in Wonderland, Katrina van Tassel (Legend of Sleepy Hollow), Miss Higa Jiga (Teahouse of the August Moon) and Stella (Streetcar Named Desire) in school plays and acting classes. No typecasting for me.
5. I have never tried sushi and I never will.
6. I am very distantly related to the painter John Trumbull (Declaration of Independence). In high school, my etching won an art prize. Old John and I could have discussed techniques if he hadn’t been really dead.
7. In college, I was second runner-up to the May Queen. The first runner-up was a professional model. The queen was the most popular girl in the school. I contemplated what I could do to seize the crown (fire ants in the strapless bras, spray paint disguised as hairspray, hiring a hitman, etc.), but I was a good girl. A picture of the three of us was in the New York Daily News and Newsday.
8. I once had lunch with Jackie Kennedy’s half brother and a table full of elementary school kids.
Now, what’s one weird thing you’d like to share about yourself?
