I had to attend Linda Howard's workshop at RWA last week. You see, I've always wanted to listen to Linda Howard talk about intimacy and sex. Because she does it so well.
Writing wise, I mean. Hey, she could be great in other arenas concerning that venture, but I'm interested in how she does it between the sheets... of her books.
So it was with a heaving breath (I was running late and couldn't find the room, which was the biggest challenge for me at RWA last week) that I ended up in her workshop. Settled down into a chair, opened my notebook and fished out my shiny new blue RWA pen to jot notes.
The fabulous Linda started off talking about prehistoric man, apes and sex. Fascinating. Then she mentioned a fact that was biologically interesting.
"The human male has the largest erect penis of all the primates."
So I tweeted this fact.
Now, for me, RWA was the first conference in which I tweeted. I'm interested in social media, and have finally linked my Twitter account to my phone. So texting a Tweet was easy!
Then I sent the tweet and realized, "I have probably just issued an open invitation for porno followers. Or zookeepers. Or both."
Oh dear.
I continued to take notes. Linda's talk is well worth it, if you've never heard her give this workshop before. She goes into the twelve steps of intimacy, the stages of attraction.
But what I liked best about what she said was how she mentioned the emotional bonding that takes place between a man and a woman. And how she gently, but firmly, advised all in the room to treat sex with the respect it deserves.
Thank you Linda for your workshop and for all the great books you write. Your workshop was one reason I'm glad I made it to RWA2010.
Showing posts with label RWA National. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RWA National. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
#RWA10, I need a golf cart
Arrived at the Yacht Club around 5 last night. Wow, great hotel, very posh. Love my room and its quietness. I unpacked and then went to the Dolphin to register. It was a short walk, I was told by the front desk.
Ten years later, I arrived at the Dolphin, registered and then went to the booksigning. I ran into Sharon Hartley and she was sitting on a bench, a glorious bench! My tired feet joined her and then some of my chapter mates like Kathy Pickering, Ona Bustos, Debbie Andrews and Susannah Gautier came along.
Then I went into the booksigning to find a few specific people. One is Claudia Dain, whom I adore and is extremely smart. I always have to find her at RWA. I remember my first conference when I was newly published with Dorchester and she acted like a "mom" and invited me to lunch with herself and few others. I listened more than talked at that lunch, and learned about the business.
I also saw Susan Squires and a few others and then returned to my room to get ready for my little wine and cheese party. A few people I had invited couldn't make it because of awards or agency book dinners. But those that came had a great time! To name a few, Piks, Aleka Nakis and her son, Rose Letson, my fellow Chatelaine CL Wilson and her friend Kelly, Mike Meeske, Linda Conrad, Heather Graham, and I finally got to meet Marianne Strnad who is on FB with me.
Some left after a couple of hours to get dinner, and then Linda, Marianne, Aleka and her son and me went to find food at around 11:15. It's Disney. They shutter most restaurants at 11 so we ended up having pizza on the boardwalk. We took the boats. Boats are slow, but good.
And now the Disney birds are chirping, the sun is shining and I have a white wine hangover. Which is what happens when you stop drinking and then have three glasses of white wine.
Today I'm chilling by the pool, which looks like its own attraction, and this afternoon I'm giving a workshop with Jennifer Ashley on writing short stories. That's at 4:15. After, it's dinner with Tara Gavin, HQ exec. editor, and then after it's hitting the sushi bar for fun times.
Ten years later, I arrived at the Dolphin, registered and then went to the booksigning. I ran into Sharon Hartley and she was sitting on a bench, a glorious bench! My tired feet joined her and then some of my chapter mates like Kathy Pickering, Ona Bustos, Debbie Andrews and Susannah Gautier came along.
Then I went into the booksigning to find a few specific people. One is Claudia Dain, whom I adore and is extremely smart. I always have to find her at RWA. I remember my first conference when I was newly published with Dorchester and she acted like a "mom" and invited me to lunch with herself and few others. I listened more than talked at that lunch, and learned about the business.
I also saw Susan Squires and a few others and then returned to my room to get ready for my little wine and cheese party. A few people I had invited couldn't make it because of awards or agency book dinners. But those that came had a great time! To name a few, Piks, Aleka Nakis and her son, Rose Letson, my fellow Chatelaine CL Wilson and her friend Kelly, Mike Meeske, Linda Conrad, Heather Graham, and I finally got to meet Marianne Strnad who is on FB with me.
Some left after a couple of hours to get dinner, and then Linda, Marianne, Aleka and her son and me went to find food at around 11:15. It's Disney. They shutter most restaurants at 11 so we ended up having pizza on the boardwalk. We took the boats. Boats are slow, but good.
And now the Disney birds are chirping, the sun is shining and I have a white wine hangover. Which is what happens when you stop drinking and then have three glasses of white wine.
Today I'm chilling by the pool, which looks like its own attraction, and this afternoon I'm giving a workshop with Jennifer Ashley on writing short stories. That's at 4:15. After, it's dinner with Tara Gavin, HQ exec. editor, and then after it's hitting the sushi bar for fun times.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Good news, just in time for RWA!
My editor at Nocturne loved The Shadow Wolf and it's scheduled for release September of 2011! Woot!
The Shadow Wolf is the fourth Nocturne paperback about my Draicon werewolves. The Empath was the first, followed by Enemy Lover and then last year's release of Immortal Wolf (which finaled in this year's Maggie Awards).
The Shadow Wolf is Gabriel's story. Gabriel is one of five Draicon werewolf brothers (Damian, Raphael, Indigo, Alex are the other four). He is the most dangerous of all the brothers, and hides a terrible secret. Gabriel meets his match in Megan, an outlawed Shadow Wolf who turns invisible to hide from enemies pursuing her.
When I return from RWA, I'll be tackling a new proposal for Nocturne. This proposal is about Alex, the widowed brother who lost his mate and child in a terrible tragedy. Alex finds a new lease on life and facing a ticking time bomb from a demon threatening to destroy those he loves.
Tonight I'm packing and trying to figure out how I can get everything into a single suitcase. I solved the problem of walking back and forth from the Yacht Club to the Dolphin with a pair of white flip-flops, and will change into "professional" shoes when I get to the Dolphin. I've worked out my schedule and I'm pretty sure I know where I should be at what time.
First on the agenda after tomorrow night? Poolside at the Yacht Club! I'm taking Thursday morning to relax and recharge after Honduras last week.
Then Thursday at 4:30 I'm helping the multi-talented, best-selling Jennifer Ashley present a workshop on writing short stories. Look for me there if you don't see me at the pool!
Monday, July 26, 2010
Back from Honduras, packing for RWA
Home and getting ready to leave again for RWA. Exposed to dengue fever (big outbreak there) and TB, but I feel good and healthy! Just tired. Honduras was a tiring trip, spent each night in a different city.
I'm leaving Wednesday to drive to Orlando and I have a list of stuff to pack, things to bring, and stuff to do. It's a weird transition, going from a developing country and visiting poor villages to the fun and frantic pace of a national romance writers convention.
Here are some photos from Honduras. This photo is of a woman and her children standing before the "house" they lived in for more than 15 years. They couldn't afford anything else. We are building them a new concrete home. The entire community is so excited about getting houses.
"The donkey's hideaway" is the name of the community. Very nice people, they hold church services in each others' homes twice a week. We stopped to see their outdoor service held on the foundation of the house we are building for them. As I stood in the road, a herd of cows started coming toward me. Running fast.
"Stampede!" I had to get in front of the truck to avoid getting run over. By cows. Like I was an extra in a Wild West movie, lol.
This is a mother and her severely malnourished baby whom we are helping. The mom got a supply of formula and the baby is being enrolled in a nutrition program at the local hospital. Honduras has a lot of caring, committed people determined to help those who are poor.
My next post will probably be from RWA or just before I leave.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Darkness of the Wolf wins CataRomance Reviewers Choice
DARKNESS OF THE WOLF, my Nocturne Bite, has won a CataNetwork Reviewers' Choice Award for 2009.
This personally means a lot to me, as that story was set on a fictional island meant to resemble Haiti, and one of the hotels was modeled after the Hotel Montana, the hotel where I wrote part of the story while in Haiti.
The Montana was my "home" in Haiti for 16 years. That hotel collapsed during the earthquake and several people were killed.
I'll be back in Haiti next week, touring tent cities and areas where my organization is building about 300 houses a month. Another 100 homes will be built in northern Haiti to accomodate families with relatives who fled Port au Prince after the earthquake. We're also building pit latrines in camps.
In other news, Jennifer Ashley and I will be presenting a workshop at RWA National called "Putting on Your Shorts." Jennifer is the NY Times-best selling author of Pride Mates. WOOT! Congrats Jennifer! Pride Mates is one of the books I'm taking to Haiti to give to friends who asked me to bring them romance novels.
Here's an excerpt from Darkness of the Wolf.
They could kill him. Now. Or wait. He’d gone past caring.
No one would mourn his death. Guy Laurent was alone in the world. The thought made him ache. In his world of Draicon werewolves, anyone who used to know him thought he was already dead.
Huddled in a corner of his cage at the Savage Kingdom Zoo, he lay with his head between his paws. He stared at the steel bars prohibiting escape. Disguised as
a real zoo, the facility was a prison for werecreatures who were forced into their animal forms during the day for unknowing human visitors.
A little girl licking an ice cream stopped before his exhibit as her mother sat on a bench feeding a toddler. The child looked upset. “Please don’t be sad, wolf.” She held out her cone. “You can have my ice cream.”
No one ever gave him anything without a price. But he still had a soft spot left for children. Guy loped toward the bars, wishing he could smile at her.
His keeper approached, knocked her hand away, sending her ice cream toppling.
“Hey, you stupid kid, don’t feed the animals!”
The girl started crying.
A low growl rumbled from Guy. He glared at the demon and charged the cage.
Electricity zapped his powerful body. Uncaring, he pawed through the bars, wanting to hurt the demon for upsetting the child.
The little girl screamed. “Mama, the wolf’s going to hurt me!” Guy watched in pained bewilderment as she ran off. I was only trying to help you.
When would he ever learn that nothing good came of helping others?
The demon pressed a box on his belt. The Ident chip buried beneath Guy’s skin sent painful pulses through him. He yipped, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the agony.
Later, they came for him. In human form now, he was naked. Using the Ident chips injected into each werecreature, their demon keepers restricted their magick and forced all the prisoners into their human forms long after the zoo had closed.
The garrote around his neck choked him as they paraded him off to the shed. The demons stretched him out as they tied him to the punishment posts. The leather whip cracked through the air. Guy tensed. Salt on the whip’s silver studs ensured his wounds would scar.
A cold night wind whistled over his body as they dumped him into the cage after his beating. The winter chill infiltrating central Florida felt like needles stinging his shivering flesh.
“Rough day?”
At the sound of that familiar, deep voice, Guy raised his head and snarled.
“Come to finish off what the demons didn’t, Phoenix?”
The tall, dark-haired man standing before him raised every hair on Guy’s nape. Tristan was a Phoenix, one of the immortal Justice Guardians who oversaw all werecreatures.
“If I were, I’d have given you to the Draicon executioner instead of confining you here.”
“Fine. Now get the hell out of here. You’re blocking my view,” Guy muttered.
“How would you like to be free?”
Agony flared on his back. “I’ve been tortured enough today. Save it for tomorrow, when the demons get bored.”
“I never torture. Not my style. This is legit,” Tristan sat cross-legged before him.
“They told me the only way I’m getting out of here is in a coffin.”
“I have final authority here. How does visiting Ile a Sanglier in the Caribbean sound?”
Wild boar island. “Why, they have a new zoo they want to display me?”
“You have a friend there. Bernard Belizaire. Bernard acts as sort of a resource coordinator for Draicon on the island and keeps tabs on everything that happens. He helped several Draicon packs settle on Ile a Sanglier years ago. Recently, the oldest pack vanished.” Tristan’s green gaze met his. “They were slaughtered by Morphs.”
Guy swore softly. Morphs, former Draicon who turned to evil for greater power by killing a close relative, were their race’s greatest threat.
“The Quartermaines left the States, but their alpha, Dell, kept tabs on them through Bernard. Dell wants Brianna, the youngest Draicon. She managed to escape, and make it to a Draicon safe house. Your job is to be bodyguard for Brianna and help Kayla Morris, the woman hired to find and bring Brianna back to Dell. We need a Draicon who is a good fighter and will keep Brianna safe until her return to the States.”
“Why can’t Bernard do it himself? Or this Kayla person?”
Tristan’s jaw tightened. “He admitted he can’t protect her from Morphs. He has a rare condition and his senses, especially hearing and smell, are failing. Kayla lacks Draicon powers. She’s been hired because Brianna only trusts females. If you do this, you can go free.”
“And you’re offering me this out the goodness of that black ice you call a heart?”
His windpipe compressed as Tristan squeezed a fist, clutching nothing more than air. “Watch it, wolf.”
Tristan released him. Guy rubbed his aching throat.
“And why should I trust you when you put me in here?” he demanded.
“You’re here because you killed your pack alpha.”
“I’m here because of Anne. I warned her Simon was turning evil and I was going to take him out. So she told Simon. He went after me, I killed him and then Carl, Simon’s beta, took over. Carl got leadership and I got prison.”
He’d foolishly warned Anne to keep her safe, failing to see her blind loyalty to their leader. He should have known better than to put a woman’s needs before his own.
Tristan stood, shadowing Guy with his tall body. “Because you saved the pack by killing Simon, you’re here instead of six feet under. You knew the rules. You should have told Carl, who would have alerted the Kallan to execute Simon. The Kallan is immortal and the pack would have respected his authority. Instead, you killed Simon and nearly involved your pack in a brutal war over who believed you and who didn’t. You’re a rogue who can’t follow orders.”
“And you think I can follow rules now?” he taunted. Damn, he still had freshly bleeding stripes on his back to prove otherwise.
“I’m giving you this chance to see if you can.” The Phoenix flashed him a dark smile.
Freedom. So close he could taste it. Guy squeezed his aching fists. “I’ll do it. What about the Ident?”
“It stays in until you deliver the girl to Dell. A little insurance in case you take a detour.” Tristan looked impassive. “I’m deactivating it, but in five days, starting it up again unless you deliver the girl.”
The thought of the chip still buried inside him rankled Guy. He took a deep breath.
“Just remember deliver Brianna to Dell or you’re back here. And you won’t leave until you’re in a coffin.” Tristan paused. “When she shows up tomorrow, go easy on Kayla. She usually avoids Draicon.”
“Sure, I’ll take it easy on the human.”
Tristan smiled. “I never said Kayla was human.”
“What the hell is she?”
“Your destiny.”
Fear and rage roared through Guy. “The hell with destiny, Phoenix. I’ve spent 30 years locked up because a woman betrayed me. You call that my destiny, too?”
“Kayla isn’t Trish, Guy. She has no pack loyalty.”
Guy shook his head. “Every wolf for himself.”
“We’ll see,” Tristan murmured as he vanished.
This personally means a lot to me, as that story was set on a fictional island meant to resemble Haiti, and one of the hotels was modeled after the Hotel Montana, the hotel where I wrote part of the story while in Haiti.
The Montana was my "home" in Haiti for 16 years. That hotel collapsed during the earthquake and several people were killed.
I'll be back in Haiti next week, touring tent cities and areas where my organization is building about 300 houses a month. Another 100 homes will be built in northern Haiti to accomodate families with relatives who fled Port au Prince after the earthquake. We're also building pit latrines in camps.
In other news, Jennifer Ashley and I will be presenting a workshop at RWA National called "Putting on Your Shorts." Jennifer is the NY Times-best selling author of Pride Mates. WOOT! Congrats Jennifer! Pride Mates is one of the books I'm taking to Haiti to give to friends who asked me to bring them romance novels.
Here's an excerpt from Darkness of the Wolf.
They could kill him. Now. Or wait. He’d gone past caring.
No one would mourn his death. Guy Laurent was alone in the world. The thought made him ache. In his world of Draicon werewolves, anyone who used to know him thought he was already dead.
Huddled in a corner of his cage at the Savage Kingdom Zoo, he lay with his head between his paws. He stared at the steel bars prohibiting escape. Disguised as
a real zoo, the facility was a prison for werecreatures who were forced into their animal forms during the day for unknowing human visitors.A little girl licking an ice cream stopped before his exhibit as her mother sat on a bench feeding a toddler. The child looked upset. “Please don’t be sad, wolf.” She held out her cone. “You can have my ice cream.”
No one ever gave him anything without a price. But he still had a soft spot left for children. Guy loped toward the bars, wishing he could smile at her.
His keeper approached, knocked her hand away, sending her ice cream toppling.
“Hey, you stupid kid, don’t feed the animals!”
The girl started crying.
A low growl rumbled from Guy. He glared at the demon and charged the cage.
Electricity zapped his powerful body. Uncaring, he pawed through the bars, wanting to hurt the demon for upsetting the child.
The little girl screamed. “Mama, the wolf’s going to hurt me!” Guy watched in pained bewilderment as she ran off. I was only trying to help you.
When would he ever learn that nothing good came of helping others?
The demon pressed a box on his belt. The Ident chip buried beneath Guy’s skin sent painful pulses through him. He yipped, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the agony.
Later, they came for him. In human form now, he was naked. Using the Ident chips injected into each werecreature, their demon keepers restricted their magick and forced all the prisoners into their human forms long after the zoo had closed.
The garrote around his neck choked him as they paraded him off to the shed. The demons stretched him out as they tied him to the punishment posts. The leather whip cracked through the air. Guy tensed. Salt on the whip’s silver studs ensured his wounds would scar.
A cold night wind whistled over his body as they dumped him into the cage after his beating. The winter chill infiltrating central Florida felt like needles stinging his shivering flesh.
“Rough day?”
At the sound of that familiar, deep voice, Guy raised his head and snarled.
“Come to finish off what the demons didn’t, Phoenix?”
The tall, dark-haired man standing before him raised every hair on Guy’s nape. Tristan was a Phoenix, one of the immortal Justice Guardians who oversaw all werecreatures.
“If I were, I’d have given you to the Draicon executioner instead of confining you here.”
“Fine. Now get the hell out of here. You’re blocking my view,” Guy muttered.
“How would you like to be free?”
Agony flared on his back. “I’ve been tortured enough today. Save it for tomorrow, when the demons get bored.”
“I never torture. Not my style. This is legit,” Tristan sat cross-legged before him.
“They told me the only way I’m getting out of here is in a coffin.”
“I have final authority here. How does visiting Ile a Sanglier in the Caribbean sound?”
Wild boar island. “Why, they have a new zoo they want to display me?”
“You have a friend there. Bernard Belizaire. Bernard acts as sort of a resource coordinator for Draicon on the island and keeps tabs on everything that happens. He helped several Draicon packs settle on Ile a Sanglier years ago. Recently, the oldest pack vanished.” Tristan’s green gaze met his. “They were slaughtered by Morphs.”
Guy swore softly. Morphs, former Draicon who turned to evil for greater power by killing a close relative, were their race’s greatest threat.
“The Quartermaines left the States, but their alpha, Dell, kept tabs on them through Bernard. Dell wants Brianna, the youngest Draicon. She managed to escape, and make it to a Draicon safe house. Your job is to be bodyguard for Brianna and help Kayla Morris, the woman hired to find and bring Brianna back to Dell. We need a Draicon who is a good fighter and will keep Brianna safe until her return to the States.”
“Why can’t Bernard do it himself? Or this Kayla person?”
Tristan’s jaw tightened. “He admitted he can’t protect her from Morphs. He has a rare condition and his senses, especially hearing and smell, are failing. Kayla lacks Draicon powers. She’s been hired because Brianna only trusts females. If you do this, you can go free.”
“And you’re offering me this out the goodness of that black ice you call a heart?”
His windpipe compressed as Tristan squeezed a fist, clutching nothing more than air. “Watch it, wolf.”
Tristan released him. Guy rubbed his aching throat.
“And why should I trust you when you put me in here?” he demanded.
“You’re here because you killed your pack alpha.”
“I’m here because of Anne. I warned her Simon was turning evil and I was going to take him out. So she told Simon. He went after me, I killed him and then Carl, Simon’s beta, took over. Carl got leadership and I got prison.”
He’d foolishly warned Anne to keep her safe, failing to see her blind loyalty to their leader. He should have known better than to put a woman’s needs before his own.
Tristan stood, shadowing Guy with his tall body. “Because you saved the pack by killing Simon, you’re here instead of six feet under. You knew the rules. You should have told Carl, who would have alerted the Kallan to execute Simon. The Kallan is immortal and the pack would have respected his authority. Instead, you killed Simon and nearly involved your pack in a brutal war over who believed you and who didn’t. You’re a rogue who can’t follow orders.”
“And you think I can follow rules now?” he taunted. Damn, he still had freshly bleeding stripes on his back to prove otherwise.
“I’m giving you this chance to see if you can.” The Phoenix flashed him a dark smile.
Freedom. So close he could taste it. Guy squeezed his aching fists. “I’ll do it. What about the Ident?”
“It stays in until you deliver the girl to Dell. A little insurance in case you take a detour.” Tristan looked impassive. “I’m deactivating it, but in five days, starting it up again unless you deliver the girl.”
The thought of the chip still buried inside him rankled Guy. He took a deep breath.
“Just remember deliver Brianna to Dell or you’re back here. And you won’t leave until you’re in a coffin.” Tristan paused. “When she shows up tomorrow, go easy on Kayla. She usually avoids Draicon.”
“Sure, I’ll take it easy on the human.”
Tristan smiled. “I never said Kayla was human.”
“What the hell is she?”
“Your destiny.”
Fear and rage roared through Guy. “The hell with destiny, Phoenix. I’ve spent 30 years locked up because a woman betrayed me. You call that my destiny, too?”
“Kayla isn’t Trish, Guy. She has no pack loyalty.”
Guy shook his head. “Every wolf for himself.”
“We’ll see,” Tristan murmured as he vanished.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
RWA: workshops and writing on deadline
Tuesday, I'm flying to DC for RWA's National conference. I've lined up my schedule and there are two workshops I'm going to try hard to make.
The first is Sat 8:30 A.M. Two Mills & Boon editors talk on avoiding pitfalls of romance novel plotting. Any time you can take a workshop given by an editor, I say go for it.
The second is Jennie Crusie - Turning Points - explore ways to do this; tighten and focus plots and scenes.Sat 11-12 am.
Note the theme of the craft workshops I'm targeting? Plotting, which I always am looking to strengthen.
RWA is the best conference for tremendous craft workshops. My schedule is pretty full Thursday and Friday, so I was very happy to see these two workshops on my only fairly free day.
This weekend, DH and I are over at Fort Myers Beach for some quiet time alone. I'm going to try to make a dent in the Nocturne Bite due in three weeks. See, I"ll take the laptop to DC next week, but trying to write on deadline at a conference is like trying to herd cats. There's just too much going on.
Here's my advice for writing on deadline at a conference.
1. Take laptop to the bar or coffee shop and look absorbed. When others see you, you tell them, "I'm on deadline." As they walk off with expressions of understanding and respect, commence rewriting that email to hubby, "Did you remember to give the dog his heartworm pill?"
2. Write in your room. Consume mass quantities of food and drink and mourn the fact you're missing Linda Howard's speech. Order another Irish coffee as a comfort.
3. Tote laptop to nearest Starbucks and encounter hordes of other authors also on deadline, who are looking busy and typing emails to hubbies asking if they remembered to clean out the cat's litterbox and make sure that little Johnny doesn't paint his sister's hair neon green with the new watercolor set.
Most of all, remember to try to make time for those workshops. They're the best thing going at RWA.
Friday, July 03, 2009
RWA food recommendation
I realized this morning that I have only a week to get ready for RWA. Gulp. DH and I are going away next weekend for a quiet time at the beach, then it's DC for moi.
Gulp.
I already ordered postcards and magnets with my Bite cover on them and a list of upcoming books so I have some promo to hand out at the booksigning. I also have labels with my upcoming books I'll sticker to books at the Literacy Signing.
I'm hoping to finish the online HQ serial for Nocturne and make a huge dent in the BITE due next month. The next deadline is full-length Nocturne due in November, so at least I have breathing room after August. But I know I'll have to spend part of the conference holed up in my room, writing to make that August deadline.
Now I have to find a new pair of flamingo PJ's. See, I said I was wearing those to the eharlequin PJ party, but I need a new pair. So I guess I have to do some shopping.
Already scheduled a pedi and a facial for a week from Monday, and then I fly out Tuesday. My friend is coming down and we're going to play tourist for two days.
Harlequin also asked me to participate in something kinda cool that I've never done before.
In the meantime, something that always turns into a challenge at conferences... restaurants. The hotel ones are always crowded, so finding a good restaurant close to the hotel, or within non-eyeball-bleeding cab fare distance is a priority. They say the Metro is the best way to get around DC, so we'll try that.
For me this trip, it will be finding a restaurant downtown as my friend and I are spending a lot of time there. I think I found one, thanks to Nancy Cohen.
Mystery writer Nancy shared some tips after she went to DC. Nancy's in my chapter and she recommends Old Ebbitt Grill, 675 15th St NW. Nancy said there's plenty of good people watching (nice benefit!) and the metro stop is Metro Central.
So now I have a good downtown restaurant.
Just need to find those flamingo PJ's...
Gulp.
I already ordered postcards and magnets with my Bite cover on them and a list of upcoming books so I have some promo to hand out at the booksigning. I also have labels with my upcoming books I'll sticker to books at the Literacy Signing.
I'm hoping to finish the online HQ serial for Nocturne and make a huge dent in the BITE due next month. The next deadline is full-length Nocturne due in November, so at least I have breathing room after August. But I know I'll have to spend part of the conference holed up in my room, writing to make that August deadline.
Now I have to find a new pair of flamingo PJ's. See, I said I was wearing those to the eharlequin PJ party, but I need a new pair. So I guess I have to do some shopping.
Already scheduled a pedi and a facial for a week from Monday, and then I fly out Tuesday. My friend is coming down and we're going to play tourist for two days.
Harlequin also asked me to participate in something kinda cool that I've never done before.
In the meantime, something that always turns into a challenge at conferences... restaurants. The hotel ones are always crowded, so finding a good restaurant close to the hotel, or within non-eyeball-bleeding cab fare distance is a priority. They say the Metro is the best way to get around DC, so we'll try that.
For me this trip, it will be finding a restaurant downtown as my friend and I are spending a lot of time there. I think I found one, thanks to Nancy Cohen.
Mystery writer Nancy shared some tips after she went to DC. Nancy's in my chapter and she recommends Old Ebbitt Grill, 675 15th St NW. Nancy said there's plenty of good people watching (nice benefit!) and the metro stop is Metro Central.
So now I have a good downtown restaurant.
Just need to find those flamingo PJ's...
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Anne Stuart's honest take on RWA National
I heart Anne Stuart. Not only is she a gifted author, but she's smart, funny and honest as hell and willing to state what everyone knows, but few venture to say.
Read her most recent blog on RWA national and the pecking order.
Read her most recent blog on RWA national and the pecking order.
Contest! and new cover
Here's the cover to next month's BITE, Darkness of the Wolf. This story is about a werewolf imprisoned in a demon zoo who teams with a werewolf-hating woman to rescue a little girl from evil forces.
I love this cover! It depicts Guy, the hero, so well. His wariness, his dark sensuality. I do like this BITE better than my last one. I'm hoping I'm becoming a better writer of short stories. That's my goal this year, anyway.
I'm also running a special contest over at Fresh Fiction. Check it out here. It's running the whole month of July.
In other news, I'm feeling better, but trying to catch up on everything. In two weeks I leave for D.C. and RWA Nationals. A friend is coming down the first two days of the conference and we'll be playing tourist, then she leaves and it's down to business.
I had thought this RWA would be more laid-back than past ones, but nope. Still, I'm making sure to schedule time with friends I haven't seen in a long, long time.
Now it's back to the two stories due IN ONE MONTH that I have to write. Gulp.
Monday, July 21, 2008
RWA: How to handle the overstuffed author
Found this among my posts from last year's RWA convention posts and thought I'd share yet again. Hee
Most authors you meet at RWA are friendly, very real people. The best thing about RWA is getting together with friends, friends-to-be is associating with people who LIKE romance.
What a relief it is to NOT have to defend the genre, to know that others identify with the same struggles and joys of writing a book.Yet once in a great while, it happens. You meet the Overstuffed Author.
It comes without warning. You're eating rubber chicken at a conference luncheon at a table of strangers. The woman next to you starts talking about herself and her books. And she Does Not Stop. She’s an endless loop.
If a hurricane blew inside the room and everyone scrambled madly for shelter, she’d still be there, rambling on about her and "Look! A hurricane! Why I once wrote a best-seller about a hurricane!"
As an author, I talk about my books. Yes, it’s called promoting myself. Sometimes I ramble, but I also like to get to know about others’ interests. What are they writing? Where are they from? What do they think about the conference?
Most authors do the same. Of course there are authors whom you admire and all you want to do is ask them questions because you’ll rarely get the chance again. You WANT them to talk about themselves! Luck out with a Susan Elizabeth Phillips or Teresa Medeiros at your table, or Linda Howard, and you’ve struck gold.
Or there's the funny author who makes you laugh so hard you snort tea out your nose. You just want her to keep telling stories.Then there is the Overstuffed Author. Her/his ego is bigger than the Goodyear Blimp. It can't be deflated, not even using a hammer and chisel.
For example, a luncheon conversation goes like this:
Overstuffed Author (OA for short): "My newest book, THE DANDY RAKE'S HANDY TOOL, is a quadruple RITA finalist! It was Number 89 on USA Today and number minus 1 on Bookscan! I just had dinner with my editor, Miss Tired and Weary and Overworked Jones, and agent, Mr. I'm So Happy I Have a Bestseller Author Now I Can Pay The Phone Bill Smith, and they assured me my career is skyrocketing! Why they predicted I'll make the NY Times soon! I'm leaving with my husband after the conference for Paris, Rome, Istanbul and Yeehaw Junction, Florida to research my next book in my gadzillion book contract, THE RAKE AND THE HO, after my Oprah interview, of course."
You: "Uh...wow."
NY Times bestselling author sitting on other side of you asks you directly: "What do you write?"
You: "Well, I write contemporary women's fiction and..."
OA: "My editor just asked me to write a contemporary women's fiction novel! I don’t know HOW I’ll find time, but she said she’d give me a four book contract and a book tour with a $2,000 a day expense account and ..."
yada yada yada. You get the picture.
Most published authors are VERY nice. Down-to-earth, modest, fun people. They're helpful, very willing to share. But once in a while... you run into the OA.
Years ago before I got published, I sat next to an OA at a luncheon. I think my head finally fell into the ice cream scoop of mashed potatoes. I may have actually passed out and needed oxygen, but she kept blathering about herself. She didn't even bother to check to see if I had a pulse.
It was shortly after that a dear friend and I encountered two OA's trying to outdo each other in the Olympic version of Look how wonderful I am! My friend and I devised this very simple, but effective scenario we used to play tag team.
Next time you get stuck besides an OA, use this handy phrase:
THAT SOUNDS GREAT!
Then you smile.THAT SOUNDS GREAT is code for many things.It could mean, "You are boring me to death and I'd rather walk on hot coals and eat writhing worms."
It could mean, "Did you exit your mother's womb talking about yourself?"
Or even, "I see a mob with pitchforks and torches. I'm assuming they're coming for you because they have to sit by you at the NEXT luncheon."
It can even mean, if you are sitting next to an author you admire, "I really am so glad I got to meet you!"Such is the wonderful simplicity of THAT SOUNDS GREAT!
It depends upon the person you meet. Whatever you desire, that's what it means. It's just a nice little polite way of enduring the OA when you're trapped. And a much nicer option than throwing your scoop of plastic mashed potatoes at her face.
Most authors you meet at RWA are friendly, very real people. The best thing about RWA is getting together with friends, friends-to-be is associating with people who LIKE romance.
What a relief it is to NOT have to defend the genre, to know that others identify with the same struggles and joys of writing a book.Yet once in a great while, it happens. You meet the Overstuffed Author.
It comes without warning. You're eating rubber chicken at a conference luncheon at a table of strangers. The woman next to you starts talking about herself and her books. And she Does Not Stop. She’s an endless loop.
If a hurricane blew inside the room and everyone scrambled madly for shelter, she’d still be there, rambling on about her and "Look! A hurricane! Why I once wrote a best-seller about a hurricane!"
As an author, I talk about my books. Yes, it’s called promoting myself. Sometimes I ramble, but I also like to get to know about others’ interests. What are they writing? Where are they from? What do they think about the conference?
Most authors do the same. Of course there are authors whom you admire and all you want to do is ask them questions because you’ll rarely get the chance again. You WANT them to talk about themselves! Luck out with a Susan Elizabeth Phillips or Teresa Medeiros at your table, or Linda Howard, and you’ve struck gold.
Or there's the funny author who makes you laugh so hard you snort tea out your nose. You just want her to keep telling stories.Then there is the Overstuffed Author. Her/his ego is bigger than the Goodyear Blimp. It can't be deflated, not even using a hammer and chisel.
For example, a luncheon conversation goes like this:
Overstuffed Author (OA for short): "My newest book, THE DANDY RAKE'S HANDY TOOL, is a quadruple RITA finalist! It was Number 89 on USA Today and number minus 1 on Bookscan! I just had dinner with my editor, Miss Tired and Weary and Overworked Jones, and agent, Mr. I'm So Happy I Have a Bestseller Author Now I Can Pay The Phone Bill Smith, and they assured me my career is skyrocketing! Why they predicted I'll make the NY Times soon! I'm leaving with my husband after the conference for Paris, Rome, Istanbul and Yeehaw Junction, Florida to research my next book in my gadzillion book contract, THE RAKE AND THE HO, after my Oprah interview, of course."
You: "Uh...wow."
NY Times bestselling author sitting on other side of you asks you directly: "What do you write?"
You: "Well, I write contemporary women's fiction and..."
OA: "My editor just asked me to write a contemporary women's fiction novel! I don’t know HOW I’ll find time, but she said she’d give me a four book contract and a book tour with a $2,000 a day expense account and ..."
yada yada yada. You get the picture.
Most published authors are VERY nice. Down-to-earth, modest, fun people. They're helpful, very willing to share. But once in a while... you run into the OA.
Years ago before I got published, I sat next to an OA at a luncheon. I think my head finally fell into the ice cream scoop of mashed potatoes. I may have actually passed out and needed oxygen, but she kept blathering about herself. She didn't even bother to check to see if I had a pulse.
It was shortly after that a dear friend and I encountered two OA's trying to outdo each other in the Olympic version of Look how wonderful I am! My friend and I devised this very simple, but effective scenario we used to play tag team.
Next time you get stuck besides an OA, use this handy phrase:
THAT SOUNDS GREAT!
Then you smile.THAT SOUNDS GREAT is code for many things.It could mean, "You are boring me to death and I'd rather walk on hot coals and eat writhing worms."
It could mean, "Did you exit your mother's womb talking about yourself?"
Or even, "I see a mob with pitchforks and torches. I'm assuming they're coming for you because they have to sit by you at the NEXT luncheon."
It can even mean, if you are sitting next to an author you admire, "I really am so glad I got to meet you!"Such is the wonderful simplicity of THAT SOUNDS GREAT!
It depends upon the person you meet. Whatever you desire, that's what it means. It's just a nice little polite way of enduring the OA when you're trapped. And a much nicer option than throwing your scoop of plastic mashed potatoes at her face.
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