Just Sing (La, la, la, la)

I popped over to Julia Quinn's website the other day to check out what's on her agenda (new series drops in 'o8, woohoo!) and found this tempting nugget: soundtracks for each of her novels. I loved reading her insightful and entertaining reasons for picking each of these songs--songs she listened to while writing the books, songs that remind her of her own plots and characters, and even songs that inspired the writing of certain of her novels. To quote Carrie Bradshaw, I couldn't help but wonder what a soundtrack for my own works in progress would look like. JQ gets all high tech (and famous writer-y) and actually has iTunes lists to match her books. I am not so gifted. Nor do I even listen to music while writing (I prefer the sounds of the Second Avenue bus stopping outside my window, thank you very much). But in an effort at seeking inspiration wherever it may come, I decided to play dj for the night. The results follow.

Then Comes Marriage:

"Chapel of Love" My first (and...um...only) completed novel begins and opens with weddings, so I have to pick this old chestnut. I think it fits Calla at the beginning of the novel really well: simplistic, totally confident and optimistic, ready for a fall.

"Dancing in the Dark" The old jazz standard not the Bruce Springsteen song. Calla and Peter do dance in the dark, and I've thought about titling the book after the song. The line "Looking for a new love to brighten up the night" fits the book well.

"Heart of Life" (John Mayer) This song fits Calla's situation so well-- beaten down by losing her husband and the life she always thought she'd live, but restored by the "circle of her friends" and her new love for Peter. It's such a sweet, beautiful song with a touch of sadness. I think it fits the mood of the book.

"Something to Talk About" I like to think of Calla and Peter being down with this song by the novel's end. They're both ready to stop letting other people's opinions dictate their lives and just live already (and make a little mischief, too).

O, Mistress Mine:

I'm only 1/3 into the writing of this book, but I already have a few ideas:

"The Song is Ended" This is one of my very favorite songs (I'm a huge cabaret/Great American Songbook geek) and fits this story of a love affair cut short perfectly. Gregory and Aimee's memories of their affair are like a lingering melody for both of them, despite their different reasons for entering into it.

"No Matter What" (Badfinger) This is totally Gregory's song. He's ready to take on the world to be with Aimee at the beginning. I think once I reach the end its resonance will have changed-- more that he's ready to accept all the different parts of her, as different and confusing as they may be.

"Maxine" (John Legend). The song's about a cheating lady, but the refrain "She may not be you...but she looks just like you" exemplifies Gregory's confusion over Aimee/Genevieve's identity (which doesn't really go away, even when he figures out the truth behind her past). John Legend has such a great voice.

Finally: I'm absolutely determined to write a book based on the ridiculous, very entertaining song "Rhode Island is Famous for You" (as sung by the glorious Nancy LaMott). Any song with the lines "They know mink where they grow mink in Wyomin(k)" and "A camp chair in New Hamp(chair)" is a well-spring of inspiration. I can see it now...a driven doctor/knitter...a dashing naval pilot...a date with punny destiny!

To Read, or Not to Read?

That is the question.

Because something momentous is happening on February 21, 2008: they're releasing a prequel to Anne of Green Gables. That's right, you heard me: a prequel. Before Green Gables comes out this year to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of the original book. A Canadian children's author (Budge Wilson) was commissioned to write it; and it's been approved by L.M. Montgomery's heirs. So part of me is very excited because, let's face it, I'm a rabid fangirl of all things Avonlea... and this is something new to obsess over.

Well, I'm a fan of almost all things. Let's be clear. I own all of L.M. Montgomery's books. I desperately enjoy most of them (we won't speak of Mistress Pat). I think I may have The Blue Castle memorized. And Gilbert Blythe is officially my Ur-Crush.

Then there's the adaptations for television and film… I have the first two Sullivan Entertainment Anne movies memorized. It's on my list of goals for 2008 to begin acquiring Road to Avonlea on DVD. And though Gus Pike is a totally made-up character (not original to L.M. Montgomery's books at all), I love him dearly.

And yet… and yet, I fear what might happen with this adaptation. For one thing, Anne: The Continuing Story has taught me to be wary. (We will not discuss that movie. As far as I am concerned, it never happened.) For another thing, the prequel years will, by their very nature, be something of a downer to read about. After all, our dear Anne was in the early twentieth century version of foster care. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't happy.

And there was no Gilbert.

So here's my question: am I ordering the book or not? Am I reading it obsessively the day it comes out, or pretending that it doesn't exist? Decisions, decisions. I need your help!

Move over Potter

Looks like we're all YA all the time here at Damned Scribbling Women this week. While Kate awaits the delivery of her now two weeks late "advance" copy of The Sweet Far Thing, I can't spill too much about the book. Having finished the read at 3 am yesterday however, I am moved to give a little teaser about my thoughts and feelings (I was also moved to post a fawning fangirl note on Libba Bray's livejournal at 3 in the morning, but that's neither here nor there).

Anyone mourning the loss of Harry Potter needs to pick up this series now, because--much as I love the Pott--Libba Bray kicks JK Rowling's ass. This is how you finish a series. This is how you take all the amazing work on character/plot/mythology that you set up in previous books and ratchet it up a notch. I thought the conclusion to the Potter series was fine, but Bray's just a much braver writer than Rowling. Her concerns are so much larger, more significant, more meaningful, and the lessons her character learn or try to learn are much more painful and more important. Truly, I'm in awe over this series and wishing desperately I'd been the one to think of it.

This isn't meant to be a diss against J.K. Rowling. I think she's great and love her work. It's more a public service announcement about how unbelievably wonderful I think Libba Bray is.

More substantive comments (including my very few reservations) to follow in a dialog once Kate gets a chance to read the book.

Delicious Anticipation

With the hectic rush of Christmas/New Year's, travel, and grad school application filing, I managed to lose track of one of my most eagerly anticipated releases of 2007: the conclusion of Libba Bray's Realms trilogy. Hearty thanks to whichever good angel inspired me to check out her livejournal (a favorite writer's blog of mine) the day after the new book was released. I'm now a proud owner of The Sweet Far Thing.

But all things must come in their own time, etc, etc, etc. I had other books in the queue and order must be maintained. When one's working days are filled with 1,500 page 18th-century novels, one's holidays become rather excessively devoted to reading (and writing) romance.

Perhaps its for the best. I've waited this long to learn what will become of Gemma, Kartik, Felicity, Pippa, and the rest. I can wait a little longer. I know this book won't disappoint, so the expectation will only make it all the sweeter.

Expect my thoughts sometime next week...

Newest Production

No, not mine. I haven't been silent for the last few months because of pregnancy, but because of the end of the semester. But I wanted to introduce everyone to my new niece, Sophia Madelyn. Isn't she cute? You've now seen as much of her as I have, as she was born yesterday afternoon while my husband and I were winging our way from New York to Santa Fe to spend Christmas with my family. We can't wait to see her when we get back home on the 26th...a late Christmas present for us!

In other "baby" news, the semester is finally over, which means it's time to return to "Oh Mistress Mine." When last I left them, Gregory and Aimee were on the verge of a rather explosive confrontation. They've been waiting months now to have this chat. Will I remember them? Will I remember how to write sentences that don't begin with "Furthermore" or "As Burney clearly demonstrates"? Stay tuned...

What Makes a Hero?

As some of you know--generally speaking, to your own shame and mortification--I keep a quote book. Recently I was rummaging through it, and I came upon the following exchange from my graduate school days:

Kate: Tortured soul sex? Oh, yeah!

Shannon: That's a place we don't need to go, Kate.

Oh, Shannon. Perhaps we don't need to go there during a Masters in Teaching program. But in a romance novel manuscript? We are all about the tortured soul sex.

Take me, for instance. I was fairly certain that my hero was pretty simple: dependable and devoted, Jude St. John is the original Mr. Nice Guy. Then I realized that, while this might make for a lovely man in real life, it's not too interesting for a novel. We don't want to read about human golden retrievers. There's no conflict there.

So. Jude's a nice guy. There's no way around that. And he's carried a torch for the heroine for almost a decade. But then I realized that he's also smothered a good deal of resentment--she left town to pursue big dreams, he was stuck caring for his dysfunctional family. A little bit of lust, a little bit of jealousy--more interesting, no? And part of that caring for family involved getting in the way of an alcoholic with a knife, and now he has a lovely scar on his right bicep. Since making this discovery, I've been trying to figure out ways to make him shirtless throughout the novel. Shirtless while wearing his toolbelt, if possible. Good times!

In terms of Tami Cowden's archetypes, I'd say Jude is two-thirds "best friend" and one-third "lost soul." He grew a lot more interesting... and problematic... once I darkened his general outlook on life. But it's a slippery slope... I want an interesting, complex hero. But I don't want a moody jerk, or someone who makes my readers skeptical about the HEA ("I give it two years, tops, before he goes all crazy axe murderer").

Maybe I wouldn't want to marry my own heroes, but I should at least want to go to dinner with them. I think I've walked the line with Jude--given him some intriguing, sexy "crunch" (as Jennifer Crusie would call it), without turning him into a muscled misanthrope.

So this is what I want to know: how do you prefer your hero? (a) happy-go-lucky (b) mildly mysterious (c) convincingly complex or (d) deeply disturbed? How are your ideal heroes different from the partners you prefer in real life--and would you date your favorite romance hero?

Love in the Time of Hogwarts

J.K. Rowling revealed that Dumbledore's gay. Hurray! Another reason to email my gal pals and analyze the Harry Potter series yet again. Part of our e-conversation below… please feel free to join the discussion with your comments!

* * * * *

Sam: I don't think I was surprised, particularly about the Grindelwald thing. I do, however, think it's sad that none of Rowling's characters seem to be able to get past their first loves and move on. If I let my first unrequited love be the driving force in my life...well, no comment, but it would be a sad life indeed.

The wizarding world seems to be somewhat less forward-thinking, socially, than the more liberal countries of our world. So maybe having gay relationships is Just Not Done, andif Dumbledore wanted to retain his post at Hogwarts, he had to keep his deep, passionate love for Ron's grandfather a secret.But of course, that's not what Rowling said. She said he never got over Grindelwald, and how upset he was when his One True Love turned out to be Wizard Hitler. And since I believe in authorial intent, I have to say that I find this tendency of her characters immature.

Kate: About the first love thing: in terms of our three main characters, it makes sense for them to end up with characters we've met. The romantic readers among us craved such an ending. It would have been a total cop-out if Rowling mentioned in the epilogue that Hermione broke up with Ron and met a lovely man at Wizard Grad School. That's just lame.

And Harry's parents had to have a shared Hogwarts history in order for their son to have plenty of "dead parent moments" at school. It's easier to build a connection between Harry and his parents if they have lots of places and people in common.

Snape and Dumbledore, both transformed eternally by their first love? Doesn't surprise me. After all, by Book Seven they parallel each other in a weird way.

I guess I'm also reassured because I sense back stories for some of the characters. I totally think Sirius was a big fan of loving and leaving the ladies. I wouldn't be surprised if Lupin had a relationship in his past that he thought was scarring but eventually got over. And you just know Trelawney did some kinky hoohah in the name of divination.

But you're right. If Cho Chang is our one example of a wizarding relationship that doesn't work out, that would be pretty darn lame.

Jaime: Also--and I know I've said this before--you have to remember that being a wizard is like being an Orthodox Jew in Memphis. Your community is very small, and dating outside the community it is difficult to meet people and frowned upon, and there are other communities but they're far away. Realistically, Ron and Harry's cohort is pretty small. There are around 70 Gryffindors at any time, so 280 Hogwarts students, and first years don't date seventh years. If you date only one gender, you've got maybe 120 people to choose from. If you refuse to date Slytherins, you're down to 90. So like the orthodox, you date less and marry young.

Also, as to Snape, his whole ridiculous double-crossing life is built upon Lily and makes it super hard to meet girls (all of whom think he's double-crossing.) Quite possibly he now has the hots for Narcissa or Tonks, but really, how could he woo either without betraying his principles? And Snape's a man of principles.

I still think Dumbledore was getting it on with Fawks, if anyone--and I can see how it'd be better to say "I never got over Grindy" than admit the bestial truth.

In the Family Way

Recent events in my own life (read: marriage) have had me thinking about a topic I've never considered in depth before, the importance of family in romance. Attempting to calculate what desserts I'll actually have time to make on Thanksgiving day that will hold up on the hour-long drive from my parents' in PA to my in-laws' in NJ will do that to you (because, yes, we're trying to visit both families on the same day. We'll see how it goes).

Families are so important to our real-life romances. I feel like my husband has married my whole crazy clan. Considering the fact that he's known my youngest sister (now twenty) since she was twelve, he really is a brother to her. And I wouldn't be as excited about our married life together if I didn't know that I love spending time with my husband's family and really do want them in my life for better or for worse.

But how many romances make use of this element of the marriage story? Off the top of my head and entirely unscientifically, I'd say not many. Or not enough. Think about it: the numbers of orphaned governesses out on their own (ripe for the seducin'), or lonely dukes who inherited it all after their cruel father croaked. Or wretched fathers forcing their children to marry where their hearts don't lie. Doesn't it seem that those sorts of stories outnumber the one-big-happy-family kind, at least in the historical genre? In contemporaries there may be more, but there are still rarely supportive, loving parents, even while sibling sagas threaten to take over the world.

We know that happy families can work great in romance, whatever Tolstoy had to say about them. The Bridgertons are a prime example: those books would lack so much without the B's hanging out together as a clan. In fact, the one B book I really didn't care for (Francesca's story) missed the mark for exactly that reason, too little family interaction.

But I'm guilty of not practicing what I preach. My first book: heroine, estranged from family; hero, mourning loss of brother and father (though he did have a mother, sister, and brother-in-law around to torment him). My current WIP: heroine, an orphaned only child; hero, estranged from his rather large family. If we're supposed to write what we know, I'm afraid I've broken that rule.

Is it intimidating to write about family life? Is it too close to our (my?) hearts to delve into right away. Or are the dramatic possibilities inherent in the gal/guy-on-her/his-own plots too tempting to pass up? Whatever the case, I've got to get over those qualms soon. The heroine of my next WIP is the oldest of thirteen children. And they're ALL making an appearance.

While I'm trying to sort that out, why don't you chime in: Is romance (real and fictional) better when it includes family? Why do so many authors cut the family out of the plot? What's your favorite family in romance?

Note added: check out the review of Lisa Kleypas' Mine Till Midnight at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books here to get Sarah's take on the topic.

From Friends to Lovers

Recently on Romancing the Blog, Daniela L. posted about a strange, sick trend on Grey's Anatomy. I speak, of course, about the relationship between Izzie and George.

This is especially interesting to me because the Izzie-George tangle is TV's latest attempt to cash in on the "friends to lovers" storyline. This happens to be one of my favorite set-ups in a novel, so it's perhaps not surprising that it's also the set-up for the romance I'm writing. As such, I'm super-sensitive to when it works, and when it doesn't.

Izzie and George don't work, for a number of reasons. First of all, there's the adultery thing. Maybe I'm a prude, but I don't like the glorification of adultery in our media. Secondly, their hook-up corresponds to an unfortunate flattening of the characters from complex and likeable to whiny and somewhat inconsistent. Third, there's the fact that we didn't see a real build-up to this relationship. There was no sexual tension. And is Izzie really over Denny? Is George really over Meredith? Finally, you just don't get the sense that these characters could ever have an HEA. What do they actually do for each other? How do they complement and complete one another? Very, very unclear.

But despite this specific romantic trainwreck, I'd like to think that the "friends to lovers" storyline is one of the most powerful around. Just think about the legendary shenanigans of Rachel and Ross. Even if the constant back-and-forth of their relationship annoyed you, you've got to admit that the initial build-up was fabulous. Think about it: he always had a thing for her, but his underlying character traits made it impossible for him to say anything. You have a little time and distance built into their backstory--both characters went on to find other loves, but at the opening of the show it's clear that Ross's feelings are back, full-strength. The strong friendship between them is one of the attraction points, but it's also one of the conflicts (maybe this is too weird, do I dare risk the friendship, etc). Friends, I feel, also did an absolutely fabulous job of involving the (nosy, delightful) secondary characters in their romance.

Of course, the grand-mommy of all friends-to-lovers relationships would have to be Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe. Who didn't love their courtship in Anne of the Island? I'd say that Anne and Gilbert were my first romance. To use a friend's phrase, Gilbert's my ur-crush. Don't be surprised if Anne and Gilbert get their own post sometime in the near future!

So, what do you think? Does "friends to lovers" work, or am I crazy? If it does work, what are the necessary ingredients--what do you like? What do you hate? And what are amazing examples of the past (movies, books, and TV shows) that you'd recommend to the rest of us?

Autumn Musings (and TV)

Don't you just love autumn? As Tom Hanks said in You've Got Mail, "It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms."

This is the time of year that I feel most nostalgic for New England. I miss being able to stare at beautiful foliage as I walk to a class I'm not teaching, kicking the hem of my long wool coat as I admire the pumpkins on various Colonial and Victorian porches (sadly, the ranch ramblers and strip malls out here just don't have the same charm).

Of course, there are plenty of autumnal pleasures to be enjoyed indoors, as well. I'm speaking of television premiere season! It's always fun to hunker down for a new season of old favorites. Then, of course, there are all the new shows.

This year, I'm watching Life and Pushing Daisies. I like both of them thus far. For Life, it's mainly because I look at the protagonist and I think, "Yay! Dick Winters! Oh, wait. This is not Band of Brothers." And then I look at Alan Alda and think "Yay! Adam the Alaskan gourmet chef! Oh, wait. This is not Northern Exposure." But I love those two actors and I can't wait to see what they come up with together.

I'm not worried about that show at all. Procedurals are hot right now; Life should find a mainstream audience.

Pushing Daisies, though... well, it has several strikes against it.

(1) It's quirky (and network execs these days don't seem to like quirk).

(2) The Fiancé and I both like it (always a kiss of death).

(3) The cinematography is Technicolor taken to a deliciously lush extreme... I can't imagine that's cheap to film.

I am going to keep my fingers crossed, though. The show feels Tim-Burton-y, it's narrated by Jim Dale, and the supporting cast includes a West Wing alum and an aging, one-eyed synchronized swimmer. What's not to love?

Speaking of love, I want to know what you're enjoying these days. What do you love about fall? What do you think of the new fall line-up? Talk to me, people.

Of Rakes and Heroes

Currently, for my graduate class on the 18th-century novel, I'm slogging my way through Samuel Richardson's Clarissa. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of this pithy little 1,500 page monster, a brief summary: Boy meets girl. Girl's family tries to force her to marry a gross other guy. Boy tricks girl into running away with him to escape said family. Boy rapes girl. Girl dies. Fun times.

Despite its length and verbosity, the novel's actually much more entertaining than that dismissive description would suggest. The "Boy" himself, Lovelace, in particular, is a fascinating portrait of a clever, humorous, charming man with all his wits bent toward some rather unscrupulous ends.

As I'm reading, I find myself marveling at the way Lovelace conforms quite neatly to the image of your typical romance alpha hero. Commanding, brilliant, handsome, rich, titled: how is that not exactly the description of 6/8th of the heroes in historical romance? He feels certain he knows Clarissa's true desires better that she does. He plans to help her unlock the hedonism that surely lies in her seemingly virtuous soul (rape is sort of a last resort, if you will). He vows revenge on her family for attempting to keep them apart. Even contemporary romance makes use of the "lying to her for her own good" trope.

This is not meant as yet another excoriation of the anti-feminist backwardness of romance, by any means. I like a good alpha hero! Done well, they can be sympathetic, appealing, exciting, and sexy as hell. I even like Lovelace, when he's not crowing about how much sweeter the rake's victory feels when he wins it from an unwilling woman. (In this I'm not alone, as Richardson's 18th-century readers were so taken by Lovelace that they begged for him to be reformed by the love of Clarissa, and for the book to end in marriage rather than deaths--yeah, he dies too, in a duel).

I'm just wondering where we draw the line: in the books we read and in our own fiction. What separates the villain from the hero? I think I write pretty "good guy" heroes for the most part, maybe even beta men, and I often feel obligated to make them...a little meaner. As though, if they don't occasionally insult the heroine or go off and fight someone or get drunk, they're not "real" romance heroes.

Readers, please weigh on on where you stand. When does a hero become a villain? When can a villain become a hero? Where's your invisible line between redeemable and wretched?

Finding "The One"

Guess what? I found the dress!

Yeah, I know this blog is supposed to be focused on all things writerly... but I couldn't resist sharing with y'all. And anyway, what could be more romantic than a wedding dress? (Certainly not the sad state of my revisions...)

I'm including some pictures of the "almost rans" in my post. If you want to see the real deal, leave me a comment and I'll email it to you.

This is what I've discovered about shopping for important apparel. The correct method includes the following:

(1) Gather together a clique of delightful female relatives (it helps if one of your relatives is an incredibly stylish salon owner).

(2) Have dinner beforehand at a cute bistro.

(3) Make sure that dinner includes wine. Get slightly snockered.

(4) Don't wear hideous granny panties while you're trying on dresses (the lines, I've discovered, are very unflattering).

(5) Try on the veil, even if you think you'll hate it...

(6) ... but stick to your conviction that tiaras are definitely not "you."

(7) Revel in satisfaction that the dress you first saw in the magazine really is the one you wanted after all.

(8) Approach with a sense of humor. It is entirely possible that you will get stuck in a dress. It is entirely possible that total strangers will have to pull you free. And at least one of the dresses will make you feel like an organza-covered hippo. Apparently someone out there craves that look. Go figure.

Ultimately, I spent one two-hour trip and found the dress. It was faily hassle-free, and I really enjoyed spending time with my mother and aunts. Knock on wood--I'm sure the insanity's just a few short months away...

Character Crushes

Have you been over to Naughty 'n Spice lately? The ladies over there are having an excellent discussion about celebrity crushes--and there are posts where you can discuss your tingly feelings for both male and female Hollywood hotties.

Of course I posted. In a world that gave us Gerard Butler and Salma Hayek, how could I not? And yet... to be perfectly frank, I don't often lust after movie stars. There was, of course, the Summer of Crowe. But that's another story and definitely needs its own post.

The truth is, though, that my lust isn't usually aimed at Hollywood stars. It's aimed at characters. Movie, book, TV... doesn't really matter. If they're fictitious and slightly twisted, chances are I like them.

Just consider Spike, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Every time he tilted his head and gave one of his trademark smirks, I felt myself getting a little melty. Then he'd cause mayhem, with leather coat billowing, and I'd think, "Hot. Goth." He was complicated and powerful, capable of both great evil and great loyalty. The best part? He was also insanely witty.

Frankly, he'd be a great romance novel hero.

So. I had a thing for Spike. I didn't quite want to have his evil, soulless babies... but I thought he'd make an absolutely fabulous mistake.

And this is what I'm wondering now: does anyone else in Blogland possess this little quirk? And if so, who is/was your character crush? (As always, feel free to link back to this post.)

Childhood heroes

I just learned today that one of the most beloved authors of my childhood, Madeleine L'Engle, passed away this week. I vividly remember reading A Wrinkle In Time for the first time at age eight. The book was a revelation, in the same way that Anne of Green Gables would be a year later or that The Secret Garden had been the year before. I was seduced by the story and the sheer process of story-telling, and I decided that year, I remember, that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up.

I also found myself captivated by Meg and Calvin, wondering what would happen between the two of them. See, even then I was a budding romantic! And I loved following their family through the rest of the books in the series. My pleasure on learning that they'd married when I read A Swiftly Tilting Planet was way beyond the interest any nine-year-old should have taken in the subject.

So pick up a L'Engle book in her honor, check out her obit in the NY Times, and let us know in the comments: What is your favorite Madeleine L'Engle novel, or your best-remembered early reading experience?

Say Our Names

Big changes afoot here at Damned Scribbling Women, born of our rediscovered writing mojo. We're back, we're busy, and we're ready to tackle this business like never before.

So, to begin, a word about the shiny new names you see to the left of this post under "Meet the Scribbling Women." Kate D. is now the dazzling Kate Diamond, while theflitgirl has unveiled herself as Anneliese Kelly. We're tying the blog to our individual writing projects, so blogging under our writing names is a natural fit.

Yes, I said "writing names", not "names." Kate and I have followed in the footsteps of luminaries like Lemony Snicket, George Eliot, and all three of the Bronte sisters (Acton, Ellis and Currer Bell) in adopting pseudonyms, rather than publishing under our everyday names.

The decision to use a pseudonym of course brings up a host of conflicts and questions. It's fairly common in the romance industry, although increasingly less so. Writing under a name like Lulubelle von Flurryfeathers does feed into the stereotypes about this genre: frivolous, ridiculous, outdated, over-feminine. It also smacks of "hiding" behind a false name out of shame or embarrassment.

So why have two modern, unabashed women like us decided to go this route. For starters, both Kate and I are involved in education and literary studies. While we feel that writing romance only adds to our credentials as proud feminists, not all our current and potential bosses/teachers and coworkers/fellow students will agree. Additionally, the parents of the little darlings we instruct may not want to associate Junior's English teacher with lusty Regency dukes or shag sessions in lakeside cabins.

For me, however, there's another factor: my life-long love of names. Since I was a child I've poured over baby name books and as an adult must confess to an addiction to baby name messageboards. When else will I have the opportunity to name myself? My new name comes from my family history (my mother's maiden name) and from several of my favorite, most life-changing novels. Plus, it's pretty!

We'd love to hear from other readers and writers. What do you think about noms de plume? Would you/ Do you use one? Why are they more common in romance than any other genre, even mystery fiction?

Finally...what do you think of ours??

Big News

Guess what? The Boyfriend is now The Fiance.

How did it happen? Well, with lots of love, a few ultimatums, and almost four years together it all came together one Saturday morning. After hearing several stellar proposals engineered by my college buddies (Parag's roses and love notes tacked on trees, Riley's miracle rays shining down on Romanian mountaintops, etc), my own proposal story is deliciously mundane. I was puttering in the kitchen and told The Fiance I was getting frustrated with his indecision. He said something along the lines of, "Dammit! I haven't figured out how to propose yet and there's no way I'm going to top Parag, but I sure as hell didn't want to propose next to our nasty sink full of dishes." Whereupon I shrieked like a banshee, asked "Really?" several times, and finally made it clear that my answer was yes.

Maren wanted to know if I was wearing yellow dish gloves at the time of the proposal. Sadly, no--but feel free to spread that rumor. It makes the story more entertaining.

We decided to tell our parents in person. At the same time. Which was rather crazy, since the ring is a family heirloom that's been hiding in my mom's underwear drawer for about five years now. The Fiance didn't want to ask for it--because then my parents would know before his--and he didn't want to go looking for it himself, for obvious reasons. So, we invited our parents over for a Wednesday night dinner and on Tuesday morning I completed a Grand Theft Diamond after rooting through several hiding spots (my mother's all about the "places no self-respecting burglar would look." See underwear drawer comment, above).

Anyway, it was quite the high. I think I've missed my calling as a petty thief. Yet after the big production of stealing the ring and getting our parents together (not to mention the absolutely fabulous dinner I made), it was a little anticlimactic when we announced, "We're engaged," and they said, "We knew it!" Ah, well. Turns out I'll never be a professional poker player or an international spy. But who cares? As The Fiance said, "Honey, I'll be annoying you now for the rest of your life."Perversely enough, I'm looking forward to it. :)

Special bonus: I guess everyone knew before The Fiance and I told them. In Theresa's case, she knew long before The Fiance and I even contemplated marriage! On a trip to Washington several winters ago, she gave my mother a beautiful, handmade lace shawl. The knitting is gorgeous, and the pattern is all symbols of the Pacific Northwest. She said, "He's The One. When he proposes, give her this." My mother was so sure of what was happening, that she brought that shawl to dinner.

Thanks, Theresa! I love it!

Why I Hate Rewrites

I'm in the midst of rewriting my opening seven pages for the Emerald City Opener Contest. I've now, officially, spent half an hour staring at potential first sentences and agonizing that I might not pick the perfect one. So now I'm soliciting opinions from others. Which one do you like better? HELP ME!

Option A: "In the midst of her boyfriend’s achingly appropriate birthday party, Jessica Jo Carter began to think seriously about leaving him."

OR

Option B: "If it hadn’t been for the Gouda cheese, Jessica Carter’s whole life would have been entirely different."

I modeled that second sentence off of my favorite opening line of all time. Bonus points for anyone who can identify the original! (And if you are one of my friends that regularly visits this website but doesn't leave comments... please make an exception just this once!)

Judgment Day-- This Time It's Personal

I just got the scores from RWA for my Golden Heart submission. I was bummed when I didn't get "the call" announcing my status as a finalist (which, somehow, I'd convinced myself would happen). I'm even more bummed at receiving these scores.

First of all, my overall score places me in the bottom half of entries. Not too far down into the bottom half, but still there. That sucks. I've seen some of the crap that actually get published by the industry and had flattered myself that my book was better than a lot of it. To find out I'm not even in the top 50% of hopeful authors really stinks.

Second, the scores are kind of all over the place. Three of the five judges rank me pretty consistently in the mid level (5, 5.5, and--my new sworn enemy-- 4.2). Then two other judges rate it pretty highly, a 7 and a 9, the highest score possible.

I get that opinion's subjective, but how in an at least somewhat merit- rather than personal opinion-based competition can one judge rate my book a 4.2 (a D) and another a 9 (A+)? Of course, the Golden Heart gives no editorial feedback, so I have no idea what was so appalling to Judge 5 and delightful to Judge 2.

At least I didn't get any 1s. I guess I should take from this that I'm not a terrible writer, my book appealed to someone, and that I've got a long way left to go. A few more weeks left of the semester and then I'll throw myself into shopping Then Comes Marriage and writing Secrets and Spies.

Triplet Update

The triplets will be six months old on April 19th! I almost can't believe it. I call them "my little fatties," because they're getting to be so big. The other day I was over there and they were hanging out on their tummies, and I discovered they have little fat creases behind their knees. That, coupled with the dimples instead of knuckles, gets me every time.

So, here they are, hanging out in the onesies I got them over at Retro Baby. Am I a cool aunt, or what?

Slings and Arrows

As my dear, darling critique partner Kate D. now knows, it's official: I'm a rejected author.

Last week I received in the (e-)mail box my long awaited response to my first agent query (an exclusive, which is why I hadn't sent any others out). Then Comes Marriage was denied. Shot down. Turned away. And all those other we-don't-like-you-soundy phrases.

However, let us not despair. After about 20 minutes in which I surprised myself by wanting to cry, I pretty much got over it. Wannabe writers get rejected. That's part of the process. And at least I'm now a wannabe writer, not a wannabe wannabe writer.

The email was also a "good" rejection, and I feel rather fortunate to have received one of those famed breed on my first try. The typo in the first sentence leads me to believe it's not a form rejection (if it is, then this agency's a bit more slipshod than I thought and I made a lucky escape). With addresses and proper names omitted, it follows:

"Thank you for submitting to ------ Agency.

"We greatly appreciate your submission, and though Then Comes Marriage is not a good fit for us. The story line and love scenes were strong; however, it felt too familiar to be able to distinguish it in the market. Still, your writing shows promise and we would be interested to consider any future projects.We wish you the best of luck in your writing career.

"Again, thank you for thinking of ----- Agency."

Now I understand why they advise having a stockpile of ready manuscripts under your bed. If Secrets and Spies were ready to go, I'd shoot it off to the agency with a personal "Hey, you asked for this!" note faster than I could get to the post office. Sadly, it's only about 1/5 written, and I likely won't even have a first draft until the summer.

Still, I'm cautiously optimistic.

Sick Days Done Right

No writing news (still waiting to hear back from an agent), but I've spent my flu days this week watching some excellent movies any romance fan would love.

First up, the new BBC/PBS Jane Eyre. I caught most of this when it was on Masterpiece Theatre a few weeks ago, but missed about an hour--naturally, the hour in which Jane and Rochester declare their love and have the aborted wedding. So of course I had to order the DVD. It arrived yesterday and I watched all 4 hours in one sitting. One of the best Jane adaptations I've ever seen. Rochester is sexy and brooding, but also smiley and neither too movie-star handsome, nor too weird-looking and frightening. Jane is self-assured, not a quivering little nervous flower. Some liberties taken (as expected) but over all, strongly recommended.

Second, I caught Casanova on tv today. Not the Donald Sutherland /Fellini version (which is incredibly stylized and oddly compelling), but the 2005 version starring Heath Ledger and Sienna Miller. Heath Ledger makes a fabulous Casanova, witty, clever and charming. For once I don't hate Sienna Miller in a movie. Maybe it's her brunette 'do (and lack of leggings). It's a witty, frothy script and entirely fun. Plus, it's filmed on location in Venice, set in the 18th century and full of incredible Baroque music by Albioni, Vivaldi, Teleman and Handel.

Okay, off to use my last remaining strength of the day to pick up some sick reading from Barnes and Noble: Jenny Crusie, Celeste Bradley, Madeline Hunter and Susan Elizabeth Phillips.

Banter, Not Bedroom: A Plea

Here's the thing. I love American romantic movies. Really, I do. Sometimes, after a bad day at work, I'll indulge myself by spot-watching such sugary fluff as Just Like Heaven or While You Were Sleeping. But in all honesty? Unless we're talking about an old black-and-white film starring Cary Grant and... well, Cary Grant and anyone, really... there's just no contest.

The Brits do it better.

Why is this? I think that Americans have grown too dependent on the cinematically beautiful love scene. I'm tired of seeing the oh-so-masculine hand running smoothly up a toned, tanned thigh. I'm tired of the theatrical gasps, dewy-eyed gazing, and discreetly passionate music in the background. It's not romantic. Often, it's not even sexy. And if you're accidentally watching the movie with your father, it can be downright squicky.

So, when will American film producers (and American audiences) learn to love the Verbal Tease?

Brits don't torture us with gratuitous love scenes. Often if there is physical sex, it's awkward and funny and all-around entertaining. (Think Bridget Jones's Diary and the granny panties.) Mostly though, the Brits put eye sex and word sex into their films.

Case in point: Colin Firth gives the best eye sex of all time, especially in the A&E/BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. C'mon. Whenever he gives Lizzie a melty look over the pianoforte or what have you, all I can think is: hoo, boy. Shiver me timbers. You know that he's totally and hopelessly in love with her and the fact that he's so restrained and repressed only makes it hotter. Seriously. At the end of the six hours, when you finally see him smile for the first time, it almost feels like you're seeing him naked. Ooh, naughty! Teeth! What a reveal!

It's infinitely preferable to artificial Hollywood nudity, though I suppose I enjoy man candy as much as any red-blooded heterosexual woman.

Here's another lesson: word sex is important. Word sex makes the leading man. Even if he doesn't have an oiled six-pack, he opens his clever mouth and we fall in love. The banter. The accent. (Okay, maybe American cinema can't reproduce that, but really...) Again, case in point: Hugh Grant. Totally adorable in Four Weddings and Funeral as he stutters out, "In the words of David Cassidy, before he left the Partridge Family, I think I love you."

So, Hollywood, a task for the summer: I want banter. I want emotional suspense. I want the tease. In short, I want a decent script!

October/November Lightning Log

Nobody's Baby But Mine – Contemporary (Susan Elizabeth Phillips) – Superb

Only a Duke Will Do – Regency (Sabrina Jeffries) – Superb

The Dance of the Gods – Paranormal Romance (Nora Roberts) – Superb/Very Good

The Valley of Silence – Paranormal Romance (Nora Roberts) – Superb/Very Good

The Masquerade – Regency (Brenda Joyce) – Very Good/Good

Night Play – Paranormal Dark-Hunter (Sherrilyn Kenyon) – Very Good/Good

Eat Like A College Student, Write Like...

A Moveable Feast, indeed!

Every once in awhile I'm overcome with regret that I'm not an angry, chain-smoking ex-pat living in Paris during the 1920s. Tonight is one of those nights, and I blame it on the Hemingway lecture I'm preparing to give my students tomorrow. Why oh why couldn't I be a Great American Author, hanging out with other Greats as I pickle my liver in absinthe?

I suppose we all have our own form of greatness, just as we have our own Great Flaw. Hemingway wrote what are, in my opinion, the greatest American short stories of all time while he drank and wenched his way through life. My greatness? I'm still working on that one. The flaw, however, is over-committing myself to projects and people and then agonizing when I can't give every facet of my life the full attention it deserves.

Hence this evening. After a long bubble bath, I decided to forego the pleasures of finishing up my essay-grading. I should feel ashamed, I know, but I'm suffering a bad case of burn-out and it's only first quarter. So instead, I'm drinking red wine and eating my first tin of Danish butter cookies since the Great Butter Cookie Overdose of 2000. (Oh, the thrills of finals period my junior year of college... but that's a tale for another time...)

I'm also thinking about why I teach, and why I seem to be ignoring my teaching philosophies on a day-to-day basis. I'm thinking about the books I want to write, but never finish, and the vacations I want to take, but never do. I'm thinking about the relationships that are important to me, and the way I tell myself, "I'll let them know how much I love them tomorrow."

Perhaps this all sounds incredibly depressing and I suppose, objectively, it is. But hey, at least if I died tomorrow none of my friends would portray me horribly in their autobiographies, as Ernest Hemingway did to F. Scott Fitzgerald (basically calling him “a drunk, a weakling, a hypochondriac, a fool, an irresponsible writer, a nuisance, sexually insecure and wife-dominated…”

[1])

Ouch! With friends like that, who needs enemies?

Tonight, I'm wondering what I'm really doing with my life. When will I stop putting off my own ambitions? How can I be the writer, sister, daughter, girlfriend, friend, teacher and "wild woman" I feel that I was born to be?

When do we stop waiting for our dreams and actually take a step towards achieving them? Deep thoughts, I know, and not the usual norm for the public side of DSW. But hey, when I'm avoiding grading it makes me philosophical!

* * * * *

[1] Matthew J. Bruccoli, Fitzgerald and Hemingway: A Dangerous Friendship (New York: Carroll & Graf, 1995) 1.

Auntie Kate

Big Hand: the Brother
Baby Hand: a Nephew (Alex)

Just thought I'd let you all know that I'm now a proud aunt to triplet boys. Benjamin Thomas, Ryan Anthony, and Alexander Michael joined this rainy world on Thursday, October 18th. They made it to 33 weeks before demanding a birthday... which is pretty good for triplets, from what I hear.

Last weekend, I got to visit them for the first time. The family spent a marvelous hour or two tickling Alex's feet and laughing at Ben while he smacked Alex in the face (they share an incubator). The coup de gras: I got to actually hold Ryan. He was so darn adorable and wiggly.

Just a few weeks old and they're already proving what I suspected: they have my brother's energy, so we won't be able to turn our backs on them for a second!

My brother and his wife are doing well. They're back home in Olympia, but one or both of them drives to Seattle every other day to visit the boys. Ben's already hit his four-pound mark, and all three babies have begun to spend part of their day in an open-air crib before being returned to the incubator.

I am going to be That Disgusting Aunt. You know, the one who spends her entire paycheck on fabulous baby books and ridiculously cute baby socks? I think this is a lovely trait to add to my resume.

But what with nephews to spoil and parent conferences to survive, I haven't worked on my novel or--truth to tell--even thought much about the blog. Life's been a blur of Other Stuff. But today I have the day off from school... so, after I go into school for about three hours of grading and planning (see how that "off time" works?) I'm going to come home, clean my apartment, do a little shopping and then WRITE bef0re The Boyfriend gets here for our weekend.

Exciting, no?

The Creature From the Black Lagoon

Would be me. If by "Black Lagoon" one means "Library." Thanks to Kate D for single-handedly keeping hope alive.

Don't get me wrong, graduate school is fantastic, and I'm so happy to be reading and thinking and analyzing literature again in a more professional setting than online (not that talking romance here hasn't been great, too). But the utter neglect of my completed-the-week-I-started-school final draft of Then Comes Marriage had me low and it had me down.

Until this morning when, perhaps still under the effects of Halloween cocktails from last night, I grit my teeth and took the step I've been contemplating for weeks.

That's right, I entered Then Comes Marriage in RWA's Golden Heart contest.

So, let's see, what's left to tackle by the submission deadline of December 4? Reformat entire ms, write exciting and interesting synopsis, and cull first five chapters of ms into a gripping and cohesive partial.

And write three 20 page papers while keeping up the normal reading course load.

I'm sure I'll regret this imminently, but I think it's time I force myself to get back to work on my other potential career, and there's nothing like a deadline to get me moving.

Bonus! By entering the contest, I'll have my synopsis completed, and with trimming and revising, should be able to begin submitting to agents next month! Wish me luck!

Get Rhythm

Theresa recently posted about the ten songs she's listening to most often these days. And since I can claim the happy responsibility of introducing her to "Maybe it Was Memphis" by Pam Tillis, I thought I'd honor her list by coming up with one of my own. And so, in no particular order, here are the songs that make up my recent addiction:

1. Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol)
In addition to being a fabulous song by a fabulous band (who, not surprisingly, happens to be highly entertaining in concert), this is a Grey's Anatomy song. They've even made a video to it!

2. When You Come Back Down (Nickle Creek)
This is the ultimate song about Jessi and Jude and who they were in high school. I've been thinking about that a lot lately (teaching, as I do, at my old high school... where I can still feel the ghost of my old stress and insecurity lingering in the halls). I listen to this song and then I agonize over not working on my story.

3. The Heart of Life (John Mayer)
During my first long week of teaching (lately they're all long...) I became addicted to this song. I would listen to it ad nauseum on repeat on my way to work at 6:30 in the morning. No matter how miserable I am, no matter how much grading I didn't do, and even on days when my second period Evil Seeds beat each other with crutches, it helps to remember that the heart of life is good! Hey, whatever helps me get up in the morning...

4. I Walk the Line (Johnny Cash)
No playlist is complete without the Man in Black. 'Nough said.

5. I Know What I Know (Paul Simon)
Graceland is just a fabulous album, even more so when your coffee hasn't kicked in and you need a little Paul Simon to help you wake up. This I like to listen to in the morning. Currently it's on my classroom CD player, for a little pre-first period pick-me-up.

6. Night Train (Amos Lee)
I think I have to put Amos Lee on my list. (What list? C'mon, you've all seen Friends.) The man is talented, sexy, and drop-dead gorgeous. Plus, he's got the most awesome stage presence I've ever seen and an absolutely wicked sense of humor. I've seen him three times in concert now... the first being when he opened for Norah Jones at the Key Arena with nothing but an acoustic guitar. Hot, hot, hot. And this song is very soothing.

7. Superstitious (Stevie Wonder)
When I'm tired from a long day of work, and I worry that I won't be able to make it through another night of grading, I wake myself up by dancing to this song. (Bonus of living alone, and it being fall: with the glow of my living room lights and the darkness outside, my sliding glass door functions as a mirror. I can watch myself do all sorts of stupid dance moves and no, sadly, it never gets olds...)

8. Stayin' Alive (Beegies)
See above re: dancing around like a madwoman. This is also one of The Boyfriend's favorite songs. I'm always listening to it on a Monday night, when I have a long stretch of time to go before I see him again.

9. Easy Silence (Dixie Chicks)
This is probably my favorite song on the Chicks' new album. Makes me think of The Boyfriend. Check it: "When the calls and conversations / Accidents and accusations / Messages and misperceptions / Paralyze my mind / Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving / Burning fumes of gasoline / And everyone is running / And I come to find a refuge in the / Easy silence that you make for me / It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me / And the peaceful quiet you create for me / And the way you keep the world at bay for me / The way you keep the world at bay..."

Yes, could do with a little Easy Silence these days. Teaching, thy name is stress...

10. Creeque Alley (Mamas and the Papas)
This song is just a delight to sing along to in the car. And it makes for good desk-chair-spinning in time to the music when I'm trying to make entering grades just a little more fun.

Old School

Teaching at your old high school is, in a word, surreal. The worst is when my students accost me
in the hallways, asking if I remember their older siblings/friends/etc. (This is awkward, as often the answer is "no," followed up by, "Well, he remembers you. He said you hung out all the time!" The super awkwardness, however, came when a student tried to place me in her brother's high school experience by mentioning my ex-boyfriend and the girl he dated after I left for college. Very weird. Check out my full accounting of the experience here.)

But thus far, I'm actually having a good year. It's early days yet, but I prefer to be an optimist. My 6th period class alone would give me a reason for optimism! Those honors sophomores kids are fabulous; not only are they hard-working and self-motivated, they're well-read! And by "well-read" I don't mean that they sit around debating Sophocles and Kant all day. No, they bring books like Twilight to class with them. And one of my students--after talking to my mother--even loaned me the new Nora Roberts, Morrigan's Cross.

Now, I haven't read Nora Roberts in years. This is partially because (a) most of her books now release to hardback (b) I don't always like all of her novels and (c) sometimes it feels like if you've read one Nora, you've read them all.

But then my delightful student loaned me Morrigan's Cross, and I was instantly reminded why Nora Roberts is the Queen of Book Sales, and why she makes such a great gateway drug to people dipping their toes into the genre. MC is the first book in a paranormal trilogy that involves time travel, vampires, prophecies, and Irish deities... a combination which could have made me hate it, but actually that wasn't the case at all.

I loved this book! Hoyt, the hero, was deliciously broody and somber. Glenna was his perfect counterpoint, and you'll love the secondary characters as well... some more than others, admittedly. The most fascinating part of the book is actually Hoyt's relationship with his family. We meet him as a medieval sorcerer whose twin brother just got vamped; then Morrigan charges him with a quest that sends him to the 21st century in the blink of an eye. He loses his whole family... and they were very important to him... except for his twin brother who, as a vampire, lives on. And this is the most interesting bit of all, because for Hoyt it's been merely a day since the last time he saw his brother and for Cian it's been a millenium. Oh, the awkwardness! The guilt! The ties that bind us through time! Yum.

I would suggest reading this book, if only so you can keep up with the reviews on this site... I get the sense that I'll be posting about the other two in the trilogy as well, though how they could top the opening remains to be seen.

Where Have All the DSW Gone?

You may have noticed a dearth of Damned Scribbling Women on this website lately. Well, there's good reason for it:

(1) the Flitgirl recently acquired a puppy, and this adorable new member of her household keeps her up every night (barking). Not a distraction that a newly-minted graduate student needs as she sets out to make a name for herself!

(2) Kate D. has discovered that teaching high school students about the glories of Great Gatsby is rather akin to climbing a mountain of pudding. In her first year of teaching at a public high school, she's exhausted and a little cranky. Not much time for reading romance... or writing it... when you're assigning ever-piling heaps of work (that yet remain ungraded...)

(3) Both of these Damned Scribbling Women have joined their friend Theresa at Anatomy Lab, where they'll soon be picking apart the Season Premiere of Grey's Anatomy! In our minds, Thursday can't come quickly enough... although our need to obsessively review the doings at Seattle Grace Hospital means that our pathetically limited time is now divided between two blogs. Sorry.

If you're a Grey's fan, visit our new blog and add your comments to our own! And we promise to post more regularly once our lives settle down. Really. We mean that. Okay?

Movie Review - The Illusionist

The Illusionist is the perfect late summer movie. It's mellow and warm and golden-colored, like rich summer days turning overripe to autumn. It stars Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti, which is reason enough for anyone to see it. It's set in fin-de-siecle Vienna, which is reason enough for me to see it. And it's the kind of engrossing, classic fairy-tale like love story that all fans of romance would enjoy, which is reason enough for you to see it.

Edward Abramowitz was the son of a cabinet maker who began studying magic after a chance encounter with a traveling magician. As a teenager, he befriended Sophie von Tesschen, the daughter of a local nobleman. At their secret meetings, he would show her his magic and they would plot to run away together to the Orient. Then her family separates them.

Fifteen years later, Edward appears in Vienna as Eisenheim the Illusionist and takes the city by storm. Even Crown Prince Leopold attends one of his performances, at which he offers up his lovely almost-fiancee as Eisenheim's assistant. The woman in question is of course none other than Sophie.

After the lovers reunite, they begin a game in which they seek to be together, the Prince seeks to keep Sophie for his own and debunk Eisenheim's magic act, and the Prince's right hand man, Chief Inspector Uhl, seeks to untangle and increasingly complicated web of illusion, reality, love, politics and violence.

The cinematography is breathtaking. The director uses techniques from the early days of cinema, like irises and slow dissolves, to create a movie that's feels more like an artifact from 1900 than a mere period piece. The acting is uniformly good, with Norton's quiet intensity and Giamatti's slightly fussy, detached Inspector the two stand-outs. And the love story captivates like a fairy-tale -- it's heavy on mood, light on plot, and the characters are as familiar as archetypes from a legend.

The Illusionist is in limited release, but should be expanding to more theaters soon. If you get the chance to see it on the big screen, you'll be well rewarded.

Soul Maintenance

painting by Nicole Etienne

Before I launch into the heart of my post, I would like to apologize to all my fellow scribbling women that I haven’t been as present lately on your blogs. Alas, upon moving to Olympia I relinquished easy access to the Internet. I can’t hook up my townhouse until I get my first paycheck… and hurray for teachers, that doesn’t happen until the end of September!

In the mean time, I hope you’ll all excuse my somewhat erratic e-presence. Today I embark for a week-long stint of house-sitting for my aunt and uncle. I'll be at the house they built on the bay, with gorgeous hardwood floors and doors from antique European churches. I'll be sitting on the back porch, listening to music on their outdoor speakers, and drinking wine from their impressive collection.

I will also be writing.

Doesn't that sound like heaven? I'm excited to have such a lovely place to come home to, as next week I begin my professional development and, to tell the truth, I'm a little nervous. But this weekend is all about revising Revising Mr. Right. (My, that sounds awkward!) Not only will I finally be working on my novel again, but I'll be following the "routine maintenance schedule" as advised by Monica Wood in The Pocket Muse:

once a week: skip to the next part of what you're working on.

once a month: write all day without talking to anyone.

every three months: send something out for potential publication.

every six months: remove the detritus from your work space (sadly, yes, this includes the panapoly of useless file icons currently sprayed across your desktop).

once a year: take at least three days and give yourself a "Do Not Disturb" writerly vacation, wherein the creative muse stops only for eating and sleeping.

This is my once-a-year vacation for 2006... and unfortunately, the three days will be broken up by professional development for my day job. But this Saturday, Sunday, and Thursday I'll be writing, writing, writing... and wining and dining myself in high style, I might add!

It begs the question: how do you all take care of your inner writer?

The Ticking Clock

After a week away in Sag Harbor, NY and Santa Fe, NM, I'm back home in New York and the days are ticking down:

2 weeks until I begin school
3 weeks until I begin sending queries to agents and entering contests.

I finally have all four of my author (and Kate D) inspected manuscripts back. And it's unanimous...all five of us agree that my ending sucks. So while consulting the OED to find out if the phrases I use are Regency-period appropriate, fixing typos, and cutting about 20 pages, I also have to rewrite a good portion of the ending so my characters don't behave in ways that were pulled out of my ass. Oh, and I changed Peter to a viscount from a duke and changed his brother-in-law's name from Geoffrey to Alfred, so now I'm going through looking for every instance of "duke" and "Geoffrey." And there are a lot of them.

In good news, I chose a new title, not one that was previously listed here. Then Comes Marriage.

Relocated... and soon to be scribbling

Since I’ve been whining about the horrors of moving, it seems only fair that I admit to the fact that I absolutely love my new home. Olympia, the small but intriguing port city of my youth, has reclaimed my affection along with my residency!

(Yes, I know this is a website devoted to Damned Scribbling Women… but forgive me! I’ve been so busy lately with baby showers, weddings, and moving that I haven’t had time to scribble. Or even, tragically, read romance novels. For now, all I can offer you is an Ode to Olympia.)

Being an hour south of Seattle means that I can get more for my money, and I must say I’m loving the apartment amenities. I haven’t had a dishwasher in two years, so having one now is lovely… and I’ve never enjoyed having a washer and dryer in my own home. Three cheers for that innovation! No more wandering down to the basement with a bag full of quarters and underwear, hoping no one else is already washing her knickers…

I’m also fully settled into my kitchen which, unlike my last kitchen, contains (a) storage space and (b) electrical outlets. I’m happy to report that, after a mere fortnight in residence, the spice cabinet has already taken on an alluring odor of marshmallows and cinnamon. Mmm… makes me want to bake…

In fact, I christened the oven with a blackberry pie. This baby was homemade from the crust on up—I even picked the blackberries myself, from a wild patch on the other side of my little patio. Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, I’ve been exceedingly spoiled in the berry arena. When I lived in New England, I hated buying berries at the grocery store. It seemed like cheating, somehow. But now I can get sticky, prickly purple fingers to my heart’s content… I’ll be making at least one more pie before the season’s over.

Three of my five items already listed, and (like Erica) I’m still focused on the proper care and feeding of my oh-so-spoiled stomach. I’m happy to report that I now live within walking distance of my favorite coffee roaster, Archibald Sisters, my favorite store on earth since approximately 1988. It’s not the random assortment of Curious George lunchboxes and statue of David magnet sets that attract me. No, those are fun, but it’s the perfumery in the back that’s held my attention for almost twenty years. I used to spend hours trying all of their different scents—much to my mother’s chagrin. Sadly, I am no stranger to the phrase “You smell like a whorehouse,” though these days I stick to the demure Peach Rose blend.

And there you have it. Reasons to enjoy my new location. Next time, I promise, I shall wax rhapsodic about something involving romance novels! But in the mean time... tell me five things you love about your home!

An Unwholesome Love

I would like to apologize to our readers for my serious delay in posting anything remotely new and/or interesting on DSW. I would love to tell you that my lack of attention to blogging stems from the fact that I've been holed up in my office, frantically improving upon my first draft of Revising Mr. Right.

Sadly, this is not the case.

Instead, I've been enmeshed in that horror of horrors that some people in this country refer to as "moving." That's right. As befitting any hapless young renter, I moved out of my Seattle apartment on the last day of July. Of course, my apartment in Olympia was not yet habitable, and so I had the great fortune to place my belongings in my parents' garage for several days. On this past Sunday, we removed said items from the garage and made our second U-Haul trip to the Olympia townhouse.

Bonus: the new apartment has stairs.

Now, I do not consider myself a materialistic person. And it used to be that I could fit all of my belongings into the back of a Ford Sedan. (Ask Theresa; she was on that particular road trip.) And yet, upon this particular move, I realized that I've been compromised by an unwholesome love. A fetish, if you will.

My friends, I speak of my overwhelming obsession with books.

There were boxes of books. Bags of novels. Paperbacks squirreled away in suitcases (ostensibly) full of winter sweaters. As I pulled my collection from the various nooks and crannies into which it had been packed, I had to ask myself: do I truly need all of these books? They make a decorating statement, and they're quite delightful to have around, but oh, how I HATE moving them!

And so, I petition the DSW readers for advice. Specifically, I want to know how you all weed down your romance novel collection. Because right now, I've removed the sad paperbacks that should never be read again in my life. I've enshrined my favorites on a special shelf. And I'm left with piles upon piles of books that were good, but don't quite merit "favorite" status. I reread them occasionally, but not often... so do I keep them, or pack them off to the used bookstore?

For the love of my big brother's aching muscles, give me some advice: how do I winnow down my most beloved, bulky book collection?

Best of the Bridgertons

I started the final Bridgerton novel last night (and finished it, uh... last night) and I'm feeling nostalgic for the series. I heard from Kate that there was some disappointment over Gregory's story in the romance world, at least online, but I was nothing but satisfied. In fact, it's inspired me to do a little list-making of my favorite Bridgerton books, in order:

1. Romancing Mr. Bridgerton
Colin was my favorite hero and Penelope was my favorite heroine. I loved that they were writers, I love the "unrequited crush on the popular guy" plot, and I loved the resolution to the Lady Whistledown mystery. Still one of my favorite romances.

2. The Viscount Who Loved Me
I just re-read this last weekend, and enjoyed it just as much the fifth or sixth time. Quinn's humor is so sharp in this book, the conflict is light but still compelling and serious for the characters, and Anthony and Kate are so delightful as they squabble. Plus the pall mall scene!

3. The Duke and I
All of these first three books are very close together. This one is third mostly because I haven't read it as many times as the others. But Simon and Daphne are a lovely hero and heroine and Quinn sets up the rest of the Bridgerton clan (and her trademark humor) so beautifully with this book.

4. On the Way to the Wedding
Kind of surprising, I know, but I was impressed with what Quinn did with Gregory's character, and how sharp and fresh her writing still is eight books into the series. I liked the way she played with the trope of love at first sight. As someone who is prone to panic attacks myself, I could relate to Lucy's well-described but not over-emphasized anxiety problems. And aren't the nine children a perfect end to the series?

5. To Sir Phillip, With Love
I wasn't crazy about the plot or hero of this book, but I love Eloise, I loved the letters that started off each chapter, and I love the scene when the Bridgerton brothers confront Phillip about their sister's honor -- menacing but still so funny.

6 & 7. It's In His Kiss and An Offer From a Gentleman
This is a tough call. Both of these books were fine, okay romance, but I didn't sigh over them when I closed the book. I never was a big fan of Hyacinth, which could explain why her book left me rather cold, although I liked the importance of Lady Danbury to the plot. And the Benedict-Sophie take on the Cinderella story feels out of place in the series, though I enjoy it more in retrospect.

Which leaves:
8. When He Was Wicked
I admire what Quinn did with this series immeasurably, but with eight books, she was bound to have one dud, and this was it. So angsty, and that's just not where the charm of the series lies. I liked the hero, Michael, quite a bit actually, but I didn't enjoy Francesca, whom I found boring and mopey and rather incomprehensible. And to me, a bad heroine means a bad book, much more than a bad hero does. I suppose that explains why she barely appears in the rest of the series.

So no more Bridgertons. I'm quite excited for Quinn's new work, as a change in scenery so to speak will probably revitalize her writing. And as much as I'm opposed to it on principle, I won't be able to resist reading the "2nd Epilogues" for sale on her website.

So tell the DSW, which are your favorite Bridgerton books (you know you've got 'em).

The Rule of Four

As seen on Holly's page, as applicable to Kate D:

4 jobs I've had in my life:
(don't worry. My other category responses are much shorter!)

1. Beer Girl (Ostensibly driving a cart around a private golf course and serving beverages to the patrons while they teed off. Actually spent a lot of time hiding my cart in the bushes and picking blackberries into a 7-11 Big Gulp cup. Fabulous. What can I say? I was young. Carefree. And who could forget The Coworker Who Actually Looked Sexy in Raingear... le-sigh.)

2. Circulation Desk Assistant at Orwig Music Library (Also fabulous. Work-study rocks. Spent three years working the quiet Sunday shift with a fantastic immediate superviser. Copious amounts of time to do my homework, check email, and surf the web for such weird treasures as fainting goat fan sites... hey, they exist. I'm not kidding.)

3. 5th grade teacher (Loved this. Did it through Americorps. One of the best experiences of my life... yet I seem to have a lot of those. I'm one lucky scribbling woman!)

4. barista (all I can say is: be kind to the latte guy or girl. Not only do we put up with your crap, but we deal with homeless people throwing sugar packets at us and coworkers who don't believe in cleaning the espresso machine. Oh, and $3 buys you a Smoothie, not a smoothie + the right to condescend to service employees.)

4 movies I would watch over and over:
1. 10 Things I Hate About You
2. Pride and Prejudice--Colin Firth version
3. Anne of Green Gables/Anne of Avonlea
4. Overboard

4 places I've lived:
1. Snoqualmie, WA (yes, of Twin Peaks fame)
2. Providence, RI
3. SeaGirt, NJ
4. North Attleboro, MA

4 TV shows I watch:
1. Grey's Anatomy
2. Real Time with Bill Maher
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer (mmm... Spike-a-licious...)
4. Road to Avonlea (yes, as you've noticed, I love cancelled shows)

4 places I've vacationed:
1. England
2. Ashland, Oregon (delightful Shakespeare Festival)
3. Prince Edward Island (need I say more?)
4. Lake Chelan

4 websites I visit daily:
1. hotmail
2. all of the reader blogs listed in the DSW sidebar
3. NYtimes.com
4. imdb.com (Okay, not daily, but very often!)

4 favorite foods:

(Just four? Too hard. So I'm going to get seasonal here and tell you my favorite summer foods.)

1. pink lemonade cookies
2. chicken jicama salad
3. salmon with orange-dijon glaze
4. Triscuits spread with Laughing Cow cheese and topped with Tomato Garlic Salad

and my alternate (because I love food, so I'm allowed to have an alternate...) Marscarpone Risotto with Peaches.

4 places I would rather be right now:
1. Cape Disappointment
2. at a bookstore cafe
3. in Europe... yep, basically anywhere in Europe
4. also, basically anywhere getting a backrub, facial, and/or scalp massage (ooh, and while I'm at it can I imagine my novel revisions and unit planning finished as well? Talk about relaxing!)

4 friends I think will respond with their own lists of four:
1. Erica, who believes that E is for Eating
2. Miss Scarlett, the KnittnFool
3. Flitgirl, right here at Damned Scribbling Women
4. Renee, of Yarns & Tall Tales fame

Four Cheers For Kate D.

Because three are never enough.

Last night at 11:30 west coast time, Kate finished the last chapter of the first draft of her first complete novel, Revising Mr. Right. As the critique partner who has had the honor of accompanying her throughout the process, I can't say emphatically enough how proud I am of her and what a fantastic achievement this is. If half of success is showing up, then even more of success in writing is sticking with it when your characters morph into bizarro people and you feel like they're physically assaulting you.

So well done, Kate! Your fans salute you!