The Dark Fairy contest continues. See Monday’s blog for details—then post a comment today for another chance to win!
On Friday, my husband and I will be celebrating our thirty-third anniversary. I always kid him that he owes me TWO presents since we renewed our vows on our fifteenth wedding anniversary 😉 The last thirty three years haven’t been easy—we’ve had our share of spats, generally because of outside pressures that make us snap at each other because we can’t say what we’re thinking to the person who really deserves it. But through it all, I’ve always known Gizmo Guy would be there, a sounding board, someone I could turn to in those dark wee hours and unload all my worries.
I noticed that about him from our very first date—that he’d listen to what I say and not fob it off as unimportant or worse, me being overly-emotional or ridiculous. I’d say something, he’d listen and comment in his usual soft thoughtful way. No judgment, just quiet reason. Which he would then often follow it up with a very sly joke. He still does, and I hope that he knows that I’ll always listen to him too. (Actually, he does know that—but it took him about four months to figure that out because I can be rather…passionate…about topics but I’ll always respect someone else’s opinion.) Even before we were lovers, we were friends. He’s still my best friend even after all these years.
It wasn’t until I started writing this post that I realized all of my stories are about friends-to-lovers. They weren’t necessarily best friends at the start of the story, but every single one of my couples have known each other for a while before they start dating. There’s already a certain amount of trust established, and often a fair bit of carefully hidden lust.
It’s true with my upcoming release, Deliberate Deceptions too, but this time I switched things up. Chad and Lauren had not only been best friends, they’d been married for several years. Except they lost the trust that is so essential to a good relationship which doomed their marriage—and their friendship.
When I wrote Personal Protection back in 2008, I already had it in the back of my head that Chad was divorced and that he regretted it, that he’d never stopped loving his wife (I’ve cleaned it up a bit and removed some of the F-bombs they dropped during this conversation):
When Sam flipped him off, Chad sighed. “You’re exhausted because you’ve been staying here late every night for the past week. Go home, Sam. Go talk to Rosie. Straighten this mess out before you lose her completely. Before she comes and asks me for a transfer because damn it, Sam, that’s going to happen too fricking soon.”
“This from the man who let his wife slip through his fingers because he was too frickin’ busy feeling sorry for himself to pay any attention to her.”
Chad stiffened. When he spoke his voice was quiet, but he couldn’t disguise the bitterness filling it. “Who better to give advice? Yes, I messed up a good thing with Lauren. I was too blinded by everything that happened to see that I was driving her away. That’s why I hate to see you make the same stupid mistake.”
But when I wrote it I hadn’t a clue why he’d been feeling sorry for himself that he’d let his marriage shatter, I just knew he was still hurting and blaming himself for the break-up. Which meant that I also knew that part of his story was going to be about him healing that self-loathing. There’s a lot of Gizmo Guy in Chad—he’s one of those quietly determined guys who knows what he wants and goes after it without a lot of fanfare. (Although I wish Gizmo Guy were as organized as Chad is, I’m glad he’s not when you discover the reason for Chad’s slight OCD tendencies.)
Writing Chad’s story was a challenge because how do you go about restoring a trust that’s been broken so badly your marriage hasn’t just failed but failed spectacularly, and in Chad and Lauren’s case, failed very publicly? If figuring out what made Chad feel sorry for himself was one key, then the mysterious Lauren was the other. Read the rest of this entry »
The Promo Whore and Queen of the Kitchen contests continue. Read yesterday’s post for details! ~DD
The Ol’ Kabong of Life
By Carol A Strickland
Golden Corral used to run a commercial in which a tiny chef-fairy would KABONNNNGGG!! people on the back of their heads with a huge, cast-iron skillet. This reminded them that they needed to partake of a meal at said restaurant. The commercial made me wonder if only those with brain injuries would want to eat there.
I experienced my own kabong, but it was a more spiritual if just as deeply vibratory experience. You see, I hit Mid-Life.
KABONNNNGGG!!
People joke about Mid-Life Crises. Oh, isn’t it so silly when men have to have their red convertibles and mature women start to dress like teenagers in an effort to regain their youth? They’re nuts!
Yeah, it’s a laughing matter until it happens to you.
Well before my own crisis I’d taken courses at a psychic school—the kind where the classroom was in the house’s basement next to the water heater, and the teacher assumed we could all detect the cosmic energies she spoke of. There we learned that Mid-Life Crisis occurs around age 42, give or take a year or two.
At that age, the planet Uranus (pronounced: “YOUR-uh-nus,” not the “I’ve got a joke for you!” way) (my college professor explained that very carefully on our first day of astronomy class) has managed to half-complete an orbit so it stands opposite from where it was when you were born.
Uranus has to do with your life mission, what you were put on Earth to accomplish. When the planet faces its original position, it challenges your birth energy and reminds you of what is truly important. How does it do this?
With a big ol’ cast iron skillet, administered to the base of your fortyish skull.
KABONNNNGGG!!
How did it affect me? First of all, I had one of the most vivid dreams I’d ever had, full of my favorite sexy superheroes, Capt. Picard and his Enterprise, and me saving the day by being your basic Mary Sue-type character.
That darned dream stuck. I’d go to work and be almost unable to function because I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Finally, I said the heck with it, recalled that back in elementary school and college I’d written some fanfic, sat down with my (don’t laugh) used Mac IIcx, and wrote a book.
Quickly enough I decided that this would be something that I might want to publish. Bye-bye, Capt. Picard. I rearranged my superheroes so they weren’t the actual ones who appeared in the comics. (I always felt I could improve those guys anyway.) And most of all, I tried my darnedest to get rid of the Mary Sue aspects of my lead character, bless her too-perfect heart.
But Mid-Life Crisis affected me in other ways. I wanted to write more than this one book. I wanted to move. I wanted to change my name. One long week when I had writer’s block an overwhelming urge hit me to paint a big patch of blue instead.
Ransacking the back of my closets, I discovered my old college art supplies (art major here), dragged out a canvas, and by gosh, painted it flat blue.
Whew. Amazingly, I could write again. But now I also wanted to renew my interest in painting.
If Mid-Life hasn’t happened to you yet, it will. Don’t even try to fight it. You will be kabonged and you’ll never see it coming. It’ll be time to sit down and reassess your direction in life. What’s really important for you to do? What interests have you been ignoring that shouldn’t be ignored?
As for me, I finished the book. It was about 1500 pages long, and holy moly, it was a romance! I didn’t know anything about romance novels, so I joined Romance Writers of America. The book was split and reconstructed into five novels. The first volume, Touch of Danger (in which a psychic healer with a phobia meets the world’s sexiest but much-too-strong superhero), was published by Ellora’s Cave Blush. The second volume, Star-Crossed, will be out in a week or two (add three weeks if you try to find it on Amazon), and plans are to get the third volume out before the end of the year.
I now have an art business that is beginning to attract attention. That name change I wanted? Oy. That’s an entire column unto itself, so let’s just summarize and say that my non-legal new name was actually a much better name for the now non-Mary Sue character, so I gave it to her.
I did indeed move to the next town over. And it is true enough: every now and then I visit the Golden Corral. But I try to do it before that chef-fairy can brain me!
Who else here has been kabonged? What did you change in your life? Or did you stay the same? (Or do you know some folks who did pretty goofy things when they hit mid-life?) And who here is old enough to recognize the cartoon character who heads this column? There was so much kabonging that he decided to join the party.
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Carol A. Strickland is a writer, artist and Wonder Woman expert. You can visit her website www.CarolAStrickland.com to learn about her books, artwork, and more than you’d ever want to know about the Amazing Amazon. There you will find book excerpts (page link: https://www.carolastrickland.com/fiction/index.html ) and even a contest where you could win a free DVD! Her fantasy romance, Touch of Danger, and the historical romance, Burgundy and Lies, are available online in both e- and print form. Star-Crossed will be out soon.
Story inspiration can strike in the strangest places. The other day at the nail salon, I saw a young Asian woman with the most gorgeous long black hair. I mean the kind of hair only seen in commercials. Almost blue-black, high shine, and down to her hips, her beautiful tresses tempted my poor fingers to reach out and touch. Just to see if her hair felt as sexy as it looked.
I couldn’t get the idea of the unbelievable beauty of her hair out of my mind. So of course, a story started forming.
Like a song you can’t banish from your mind, sometimes a flash of inspiration refuses to leave you alone. While the story isn’t complete, the basic set up is in my list of stories to write. Definitely another lesbian vampire story. *cackle*
Songs or music videos are another great inspiration for my stories. A Familiar Taste of Poison by Halestorm hit me several ways. First the title. I wish I’d thought of that one! Then there’s the lyrics—
I breathe you in again
Just to feel you underneath my skin
Holding onto the sweet escape
Is always laced with a familiar taste of poison
Finally, there’s the video. I mean…just wow. Fabulous visuals. Great film noir look and feel. An entire murder mystery in four minutes.
A lot of Halestorm’s lyrics strike a chord with me. No pun intended. I think I could write an entire series inspired by their music.
Friends are another source of inspiration, especially if they are also writers. I don’t mean writing about their lives. Although Delilah’s life would make for a very interesting book. *wink*
Brainstorming can start with a single word or a simple premise. Back and forth banter blossoms into stories. Delilah is one of the best at brainstorming. She’s pulled me out of several plot holes.
Then there’s the random stray thought, like the one that inspired my latest story, Consensual Infidelity.
What would you do if you found out your boyfriend were bisexual?
Would you run away as fast as your feet could carry you? Accept it but agree that part of his sexuality should stay hidden? Or would you actively pursue his fantasy of being with a man—then join in?
You can probably guess what Denise Wilder did in Consensual Infidelity. And boy, do they have fun!
Sometimes, a great story comes out of a combination of all of the above. For instance, a bisexual Asian woman murdered in the early 20th century who is resurrected as a vampire. Now I need a little help from my friends to fill in the plot holes! *grins*
Thanks, Delilah, for letting me ramble on about inspiration!
The big book expo was yesterday. Had a great time. I loved chatting with the folks who brought their dog-eared copies of my books, their Kindle covers, and their bookplates for me to sign. It made the whole week worthwhile. I’m flying back to Arkansas today, so I’ll be right back here tomorrow! In the meantime, give a warm welcome to Cathryn! ~DD
Aloha from Hawaii. My husband and I are vacationing on the Big Island—the one with the active volcano. Sadly for my dreams of watching molten lava flow into the turqouise sea, Kilauea is currently…not active.
However, today we drove up from the sunny, warm seashore high into the cool, misty clouds of Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. With other tourists from all over the world, we viewed the huge caldera, with sulphurous steam venting from a crater and from the ground all around the park observatory.
We drove down from the 4,000 foot summit to the wind-whipped south-east shore of Hawaii, where just last month, pahoehoe lava flowed down and hardened into black sheets like so much icing, covering mountainsides, verdant forests and even highways before it cascaded into the sea.
It happened. I was not there to see it. But, through the magic of video, maps, diagrams and dioramas that the Park Service does so very well, I was still able to experience the thrill. And I learned about the history of Hawaii, both geologic and how the people who settled here wove the volcanoes into their folklore and religion. The goddess Pele watches over her islands with a loving, jealous heart.
And, sigh…I suppose it’s safer this way. There are only so many roads on this gorgeous island, and I feel for the people who have lost their homes to the fury of Pele’s fire. So, if she chooses to stay her hand, I’ll enjoy the grandeur of her handiwork safely cooled.
And hang out at the beach. Snorkeling tomorrow! I have a date with a handsome husband, lots of tropical fishes and a turtle or two, out on the reef.
Posting from LA! I skipped the Fairy Ball last night. Allergies were driving me nuts (sneezing, wheezing), so I went to bed early. 🙁 Had a good day though. Met with my agent. Sat on a panel with the awesome, L.A. Banks, Kim Kaye Terry, Glenda Wood from Harlequin and J.D. Mason. The panel went very well! I attended the EC luncheon, popped in briefly to the late afternoon Samhain party, but again, I was tired and coughing, so I ducked out and hung with Vivi Anna and Kim (she injured her knee dancing, so needed the company!). That’s the best about conferences—cementing friendships. ~DD
Cougars…really?
Thanks to Delilah for having me here today!
My topic today is one I’ve done before but still fascinates me. Cougars. Why is a woman of a certain age (and that age is getting younger and younger—I’m thirty-five and I’d bet in some circles I would qualify) who’s interested in a younger man worthy of a derogatory title? Do older men get named for dating younger women? No, because that’s considered the usual way of things.
Women who take charge of their lives and their sexuality and go after what they want—whether it’s a younger man or a career or staying home with their kids—have earned my respect. I have a good friend who’s engaged to someone younger and she’s a beautiful, sweet woman. He’s lucky to have her! I think to insinuate that women dating younger guys is all about sex isn’t true. Just like people can have friends of any age, love blooms between all different age groups. And that’s the way it should be.
Even if it’s not about love, who cares? I say have fun. Go for it. What’s been good for the guys since the beginning of time is definitely good for us ladies.
I’m writing two very different so-called “cougar” stories right now and I’ve written one before, Full Disclosure. One of the reasons I love writing them is that I like an age range in my heroines and unfortunately, unless you’re writing women’s fiction, heroines above 35 don’t seem prevalent unless they’re with a younger guy.
I like writing about older women. They’ve usually got a better handle on what they want in their careers and sexually too. But they have a whole new set of vulnerabilities to explore.
What about you? Do you dislike the term “cougar”? Do you enjoy books featuring older heroines?
Visit Cari Quinn at www.cariquinn.com or at her blog: Cari’s Blog
I’m in LA! If you are at the Romantic Times convention, please look me up. However, I won’t be spending ALL my time hanging out at the bar. I have a book to edit and get back into my editor’s hands. What can I say? Time got away from me before I left. So much for a vacation. 😥 In the meantime, welcome my guest, Adele Dubois! Oh, and remember, the MOONSTRUCK contest is still running! See details in Tuesday’s blog! ~DD
What’s Your Fantasy
by Adele Dubois
All my life I’ve been fascinated by motorcycles and convertibles. The sensations of wind and speed thrills like nothing else. When the weather’s warm, I love to ride in my convertible with the top down, as do the heroines in almost all of my books. Though I don’t own a motorcycle, my law-enforcement heroes do, and they ride hard and fast when they need to solve a crime or sport the heroine away from danger.
I live vicariously through my strong, sexy characters in the novella REV ME TWICE and it’s stand-alone novel REV ME UP. These e-books will be combined in trade paperback as REV ME this fall.
Though I’m not fearless enough to ride a motorcycle in real life, I can live out the fantasy with my story characters. Isn’t that the best thing about fiction? We can go where we want to go and do whatever we please, including having the most amazing sex imaginable with a hot guy who looks good on a Harley.
I’m on my way to LA for the RT convention. I won’t be back until Sunday. In the meantime, I have some fun guests lined up to keep you entertained. Don’t be shy about commenting! ~DD
I’ve blogged about Cowboys before and had so much fun with the Cowboy conversation starters, I thought I’d do it again on Delilah’s Blog.
First, what’s not to love about cowboys? Having lived in Texas, on a small 100-acre ranch outside of San Antonio, I know a little about cows—they’re dumber than dirt. I know a little about horses—just waving at them doesn’t stop them from running over you. I know a little about building fences—100 acres takes 9 months of weekends to completely fence, almost as painful as having a baby. We had the fortune of raising some exotic animals for a while in the form of ratites—I know, what’s a ratite? Think Ostrich, Emu and Rheas, those really big, flightless birds that are almost as dumb as cows. I learned a lot from the big birds. Ostriches can kick the crap out of you, Emus have a six-feet vertical jump and it hurts when they land on your head, and a Rhea male sits the eggs and doesn’t like it when you rob his nest.
I no longer live on that ranch—it was killing me to re-fence after every rain storm. After 14 years working it, we decided to try our hands as business owners in Arkansas. I miss the Texas hill country and the cowboys that came along with it. I always wanted my daughters to marry cowboys, but so far that hasn’t happened. And since I was already married when we moved to the Texas hill country, I didn’t get the opportunity to marry a cowboy myself, not that I mind having married the computer geek husband I have. He’s tough when it comes to trying his hand at ranching and he doesn’t give up.
However, IF I was single, here a few conversation starters I came up with for an encounter with a cowboy. Maybe one of you can use them since I’m already taken. Tell me what you think and if you have a few of your own, I’d love to hear them. Leave a conversation starter for a chance to win a download of FIT TO BE TIED or HONOR BOUND.
10. Bull riding or team roping?
9. Felt or straw cowboy hat?
8. Ever tipped a cow?
7. Skinny-dip or suit?
6. Saddle or bareback?
5. Where did you get your first kiss?
4. Candles or stars?
3. Ride much?
2. Do you sleep in the nude or with your boots on?
1. Do you own a pair of chaps?
I love to write about contemporary cowboys and cowboys of the old west. Check out SEX ED on Amazon. He’s a cowboy caught between a promise and a request he can’t ignore.
Myla Jackson, aka Elle James, aka Delilah Devlin’s little sister. Woot!
Twenty years of livin’ and lovin’ on a South Texas ranch raising horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus left an indelible impression on Myla Jackson, one she likes to instill in her red-hot stories. Myla pens wildly sexy, fun adventures of all genres including historical westerns, medieval tales, romantic suspense, contemporary romance and paranormal beasties of all shapes and sexy sizes. or spending time with her family. She lives in the tree-covered hills of Northwest Arkansas with her husband of 20+ years and her muses— the human-wanna-be canines—Chewy and Sweetpea. To learn more about Myla Jackson and her stories visit her website at https://www.mylajackson.com.
Golden Corral used to run a commercial in which a tiny chef-fairy would KABONNNNGGG!! people on the back of their heads with a huge, cast-iron skillet. This reminded them that they needed to partake of a meal at said restaurant. The commercial made me wonder if only those with brain injuries would want to eat there.
