Survey Says!

Jun 25, 2007

I am not an evolutionary biologist. I am definitely not remotely scientific. I was an English major with a minor in Speech. I don’t even know how a toaster works. But intrigued by the recent Tall Dark and Handsome results from the Beau Ideal post, I set off on a scientific exploration to discover why TD & H rules.

After wandering like Moses through the Internet (even coming unfortunately upon what was evidently a Neo-Nazi site), I’m still not sure. But here are some interesting facts:

According to National Geographic, female lions prefer their males to have dark manes. Dark-maned lions are hotter. And I don’t mean cute. They actually suffer from heat stress, but they’re tougher and stronger—they can take it. Female lions think they’re cool.

A Polish study showed that taller men had more children. Women liked them for the hard-wired evolutionary biological characteristics: tall=good health, social status, protection and strength. Tall men cannot be easily dominated by smaller men. Tell that to Napoleon, who, I understand was not really so awfully short. “The Little Corporal” was just an affectionate appellation; it didn’t mean Boney was short. He was, at 5’6”, actually taller than the average Frenchman (and yes, I know some say he was 5’2”, but there’s some kind of measurement mix-up according to Ask Yahoo, my source).

So, there you have it. Most of us like tall, dark and handsome men, and have since we were cavewomen. But I wouldn’t turn away a tall, fair and handsome guy—he’s got feelings, too.

Thanks to all of you for your participation in my “research,”not only how you like your men to look but how you like this blog to look! I’m a creature of habit, so it’s back to “normal.” But tomorrow is another day.

Do you know any myths you’d like to bust? Want to share a scientific fact? Enlighten me.

History is a set of lies that people have agreed upon. ~ Napoleon

Beau Ideal

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

From Clueless to Connoisseur

Jun 21, 2007

For two years, I’ve lived in a quaint New England college town whose chief claim to fame is its U.S. News and World Report rating as home to one of the best universities in America and birthplace of Chester Greenwood, inventor of the ear muff. There is a parade in Chester’s honor every year down the thriving, brick-fronted main street. At first glance as you drive through town, you think you’ve stepped back a century. Looking more closely, you see the university has taken over a lot of the big Victorian houses as office and academic buildings, and there’s a hippie store amongst the funky others that has cornered the patchouli oil and incense market in western Maine.

I am ashamed to say I do more of my shopping at Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town (all those cheap books, you know, plus they have a Dunkin Donuts in the store). But since I’m on vacation, yesterday I decided to visit Twice Sold Tales, an enormous UBS with considerable organization despite its laid-back vibe.

I really scored. For $15 I bought a 1,536-page, eight-pound book, The Connoisseur’s Complete Period Guides to the Houses, Decorations, Furnishing and Chattels of the Classic Periods, published in 1968. It spans from Tudor times to early Victorian, and is loaded with articles, photographs and illustrations. Like a lot of people, I do research online, but I’m really a hands-on kind of person, so this book is fabulous for me…although it makes me sneeze and itch a little.

What I’m loving most is the faces in the portraits. There’s Wellington, there’s Castlereagh, there’s an unknown lady with Shirley Temple curls. Or maybe Shirley had hers. There’s a lot of stuff pictured courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum, my favorite place on earth, and one painting loaned out by “the Earl Spencer,” Diana’s grandfather. I could spend the rest of the summer discovering exactly what crizzling and cartouches are.

Have you ever found something you just had to have, even if you didn’t have a practical use for it? What’s your favorite research tool/site? Anything interesting about your town?

Petworth: The Drawing Room by J.M.W. Turner, c. 1828

Inventing Romance

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

The Deep End

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.