This blog has gotten very dusty the last few years. If you miss me you can find me at the  new site or over on Twitter.

See you soon!

Shiny

Shiny New Look to the Blog!

That crazy #sytycw2012 hashtag

Have you been seeing that #sytycw2012 hashtag all over twitter?

I absolutely have. I'd say it's a quarter of my tweetstream - even if the hashtag isn't there, people are talking about Harlequin's annual writing competition So You Think You Can Write. There's some six hundred or so entries, lots of those are people I'm online friends with. The last couple of years, I've entered and had a great time, met some wonderful people, and got to cheer for the winners Leah Ashton and Kat Cantrell and Natalie Charles.

One of the very best things about contests in Romancelandia, is that although they are a  competition and everyone wants to win, even if you don't come out on top, you can end up with your own happy ending. The winners aren't the only ones to sell their book. I've been waiting for a certain friend to spill her own happy news and the suspense is killing me.

But most important of all, win or lose, this is a amazing way to meet writers who love to read and write the same kind of books that I love. I've so many people. Leah, Kat and Natalie aren't just names on a cover to me. They are writers, friends I look for on twitter, which makes their successes all the sweeter.

And I've been lucky enough to meet many other wonderful friends. These are the women who cheer me on when I'm staring down my fears and who celebrate my every victory, no matter how small. This year, since I don't have an entry, I get to sit back and enjoy the fun, without any of the worry. Jessica and Jane during the build up to the first New Voices competition two years ago. Joanne and I go back nearly as far. In fact, I knew all the writers mentioned in RLA's post on her favorite entries. It all makes me wildly happy to see all my friends up there.

But I've barely skimmed the surface over at the sytycw site, so help me out. Have a favorite entry you have voted for every single day? Does your BFFL have her first ever book out in the big bad world and it needs some love? Found any gems in the pages (and pages!) of Nocturne entries? The perfect fit for the shiny new Kiss line?

Link me to your fave - or your own! I don't want to miss anything in the few days left to vote.

The Power of Four


I quite forgot to include that I'd been tagged by the lovely Rose Red over at Sprig Muslin along with Karina Buchanan, Catherine Coles and Amalie Berlin. 




Four places I've worked:

1. photo shop in Grand Central Station. Yes, it's as busy as everyone says. You kind of get addicted to that rush.
2. the small hotel where I was married
3. the small ballet company where my children danced.
4. my all time worst baby stitting job ever was for a then seven year old boy who BIT me on a quais regular basis. Even the key to Gramercy Park didn't make up for how horrid he was.

Four films I could watch over and over again:

1. The Breakfast Club
2. Serenity
3. Pride and Prejudice. The Colin Firth one.
4. The Fifth Element

Four tv shows I could watch again and again:

1. Buffy
2. Gilmore Girls. I love the witty back and forth dialogue.
3. Lost Girl. Current obsession.
4. Bones

Four authors I enjoy:
Four? That's a joke right? How about the last four books I bought.

1. Lisa Kleypas
2. Sarah Mayberry
3. Ruthie Knox 
4. Thea Harrison

Four places I've travelled to:

1. France
2. Sanibel Island
3. China
4. Sea Ranch

Four websites I visit daily:

1. Facebook
2. Twitter
3. Tumblr
4. Sudoku. 

Four favorite foods:

1. pizza. Homemade with arugula and ricotta.
2. a fresh perfectly ripe peach
3. fudge
4. seared ahi tuna

Four places I'd rather be:

1. Sanibel Island. Any day of the week.
2. Paris
3. Piazza San Marco
4. Tokyo

Four lucky bloggers I'm tagging:

1. Lacey Devlin
2. Cara Cooper
3. Xandra James
4. Jackie Ashenden

Apologies, all! *ducks and runs away*

Lucky 7 Meme

Lucky me! I got tagged in the Lucky 7 meme going around not once, not twice but three times! First by the lovely Kiersten Krum on her Tumblr. I can't find the post, but go poke around, she posts lost of hot guys and hilarious jokes. Then by the lovely Maisey Yates with some fuchsia lipstick and the Thea Harrison with guns and swords. 


 I am forced to confess that I'm not so prolific that I have three manuscripts I'm working on at the same time, so y'all get the same snippet. 

Here are the rules:
1. Go to page 77 of your current MS 
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 authors
5. Let them know
Here are the rules:
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines – sentences or paragraphs – and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 authors
5. Let them know

From the manuscript I am painfully revising this month (and last month too).

Two could play that game. “Since things are slow this afternoon, I’m getting started writing a new program to track the invoices and sales. I can write something where the data only has to be input once, instead of the three or four times the current software requires.”

“I don’t know about that. We’ve had the same software in the store for almost ten years. It’s reliable.”

“It is, but it’s also slow and outdated. Since you don’t want to invest in something new, I can at least write a quick program that would make the process a whole lot faster.” Then they could enter the twenty-first century, and as an added bonus Chris could look forward to a few evenings busy writing code instead of making small talk over his father’s favorite reality show.

Check out Maisey and Thea's blogs to see who else they tagged! Or maybe you want to post your own Lucky 7? If you do, let me know in the comments so I can check it out.

Yes, it's always like this

A while back, I somehow fell into the job of costuming for a dance company. It isn't anything I'd ever intended to do. 

Every show presented more technical challenges. How to get the pleats to lay flat? How to secure the boots that were too loose? How to ensure that a girl's top stays in place? All these little details that I had never thought of before. I mean, who thinks of these things? Well, now I think about these things. But that wasn't the biggest challenge. 

You see, I didn't grow up as a performer. I did a couple of plays in high school. Small shows and I had very small parts, which was fine by me. Now, suddenly I was involved in these huge productions with elaborate and expensive costumes. Hundreds of pieces to keep track of and repair and replace. It all seemed pretty straightforward and each show started out that way.  Alas, it never went as easily as I planned. Things were torn, or misplaced. There were last minute casting changes that led to last minute alterations.

Early on, one show went especially wrong. I hadn't thought about that evening in a long time and then I read Maisey's post and it all came back to me in sharp detail. It was one crisis after another all night long. I literally didn't sit down before my name was called again by panicked dancers - Torn pointe shoe ribbons, tights with holes, makeup stains, ripped tulle, lost headpieces, tears and stains, glue and thread and needle.  Finally at the end of the night, the star was back on stage - neatly sewn into his costume with the broken zipper - and I turned to some of the veteran performers. They were celebrating our success in getting everyone back out on stage on time. The audience had no clue how frenzied we were back stage. My hands shaking with an excess of adrenaline, I couldn't see anything to celebrate. "Tell me it isn't always like this," I said, half-joking. I wanted some reassurance that some day I wouldn't have to do this, some day in the not too distant future I would get it right.

They assured me that it was indeed always like that, and if you were very prepared and very lucky, the audience never knew. It was one of those moments when the world shifts around, like a kaleidoscope, and suddenly you see a different pattern. 

I wasn't supposed to get it right every time. It wasn't supposed to be done. I wasn't supposed to be done. Being accomplished didn't mean being finished. I carried that thought with me out of the theater that night and it quite changed the way I thought about my life.

I'm not perfectly organized or getting everything right. Every single day is an adventure. I'm making it up as I go along.

My Words Are Not Me

I was playing around on twitter a bit this week, but still managed to get nearly everything I wanted done. It was a bit of a surprise since I've kept up for once with nearly all the blogs I've followed, chatted with people about their holidays as well as been super busy with my real life obligations. One of the things I saw this week was yet another author having a meltdown over a bad review. It doesn't matter who or why it was this time. All of these incidents have a certain sameness to them. I always worry about these authors. I used to think it was because I doubted they had any true friends. You know, the kind we all need; the ones who will tell you to knock it off when you are making an ass of yourself.

Then, while I was messing around making jokes and reading #engineersmut on twitter, I saw a random tweet.

Camryn's words made me think of the narcissistic way some people love their own creations: their writing, their painting, their kids even. It can never be anything more to them then an extension of themselves. This is why so many writers are struggling with the bad reviews. It's not the reviews themselves, which often seem unremarkable to me. It is that the author is taking the criticism of the flaws in their work as comments disparaging them as a person. It's crazy-making to do that and can't lead to anything except the sort of public bad behavior that has become all too common.

Not everyone will like my writing. And that is okay. It's not the end of the world. It doesn't mean they are stupid or wrong. But it doesn't mean that I am either. Art is so personal and intimate that every individual experiences it in a different way. Just because someone doesn't like what I write, doesn't mean that they dislike me. It doesn't mean that we wouldn't have a wonderful time talking and laughing over drinks or that they think I'm inferior somehow. And even if they do think that, it doesn't have to bother me.

Writing becomes a visible manifestation of your intellect, your heart and your soul, but it is, by it's very creation imperfect. It's not all of the writer, or even all of the writer's vision of the story. Courtesy of the ever lovely Lynn Raye Harris, I found this little book on writing by Ann Patchett. She writes at length about the process of creating a magnificent story in your head and failing to capture it properly as you wrestle it onto the page. I feel it is exactly like that for me. I know that what I've ended up with isn't as shining and beautiful as the story I've created in my mind. If I could ignore it and go on with life I would, but it plagues me until I bleed it out onto the page. While I'm writing it, I pour my energy into making it as good as I possibly can, but then, I try to let go.

Because the words on the page are not me.

My Big Adventure

So. I took this little trip. I hadn't been planning to run off and leave my husband behind. My stepmother called last spring and asked if I'd go along with her on a vacation.

To China.

It was completely amazing. After an insanely long flight, we arrived in a country which was both like home and totally foreign. Fabulous coffee was served with breakfast. The streets were packed with people walking their dog, rushing to work every morning just like here. But I couldn't read the signs, or even the label on a package. Even the beer and the Coke tasted different. The cities we visited were surprising.  Both older and more modern than I had expected.

Beijing's old quarter

Shanghai at night

Can you see how worn those steps are in places? Pretty scary  on the way down.

We climbed the Great Wall.








We ate amazing food one afternoon, prepared in our cook's home.  Lotus root - who knew you could eat that?









We strolled around markets where busy families bought their dinner.

People were gracious and patient with us, as we fumbled our way through a Starbucks order. We chatted with university students eager to practice their English on us.

Just like home!

What a Wonderful Year

My New Voices entry is finally up!

What a different experience it has been this year. Last year, I sat alone at my computer and hit enter, sending my story off into the world with little idea of what would happen. I didn't know anyone in the romance community, in real life, or online. It was one of the scariest things I'd ever done.

 I was so hesitant to enter last year, intimidated and a bit scared that I didn't measure up against such accomplished women (and men). Afraid that I wouldn't fit in. It all seemed an impossibly hard to achieve dream. I'm so grateful that I tried anyway.

Now a year later, I've learned so much. I've read and studied, written and practiced and read some more. And just as importantly, I've met other romance writers. People who have made me laugh with cheesy or sometimes smutty jokes. People who have inspired me with their dedication and perseverance. People who have touched me with their honesty and generosity. The friendship and support I've received from other writers is amazing. It's truly changed my writing and my life.

If you're sitting on the fence, watching the last few hours tick away until the deadline, don't miss out. Submit. You won't be sorry. Even if you're not entering, there are loads of great first chapters waiting for you. Join the party!

An Unforeseen Pleasure

Last night my husband and I ditched the kids and went out on a date night, something we haven't done in ages. We headed over to EPCOT's Food and Wine Festival, thinking we'd walk around World Showcase, have a glass of wine and maybe stay for fireworks.  Apparently everyone else thought that too. The line of cars waiting to be parked was past the entrance, something rarely seen, even in the morning. We gave up on that as soon as we could turn around. I was pretty annoyed that our plans had fallen through, but Mr. B was undaunted. We ended up parking at the Magic Kingdom and walking around the Seven Seas Lagoon.

It was cool and breezy and just a lovely night. Making our way back to the car, we stopped and grabbed a lounge chair and watched the Electric Light Parade. It was so nice just sitting there together with no long list of chores nagging at us,that we hung around until they did the fireworks show at the Magic Kingdom. Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the Magic Kingdom, so they did an extra huge show with perimeter fireworks. It's been a very long time since I've seen the Magic Kingdom fireworks from a distance like that. In some ways, it's almost more awe inspiring from far away.

Here's hoping you are as happily surprised by your weekend.

But Everyone Loved It

There is a fascinating discussion over at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books about the books everyone loves. The books that are praised and feted and recommended. No matter how beloved a book is, someone out there hates it. A lot.

With a fiery burning passion.

As I write this, the post has well over two hundred comments. That's a lot of passion. What struck me as I started to read the comments is the inconstancy of popular opinion. All of the most popular books and authors have their detractors. What some people love about a book is the exact same thing other commenters hate.

The heroine is weak. The heroine is heartless. The world building is complex. The world building is overwhelming. The pace is too slow. The plot moves so quickly there isn't time to get to know the characters.

It might sound like you can't make anyone happy. But that isn't true at all. You can't make everyone happy. Not everyone will love what I write. Even if it's good.

Instead of discouraging, I find it really quite liberating. I am freed from the shackles of trying to appease everyone. If I simply write a great book some readers will like it.

And some won't.

The End

I took my daughter, Prudence, to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two last night. We went to a midnight show at our favorite theater. It was a carnival like atmosphere with costumes and performances. The theater was packed there were moviegoers in capes and carrying wands. There were house colors and faux British accents.We saw a dozen people who we knew. I waited in line for thirty minutes to buy a five dollar soda.

Despite the air of frivolity, my daughter cried throughout much of the movie. This series isn't just  a story to my daughter. A friend's older brother was obsessed with these books way back in 1999. He counted down the days to the next books release and talked to me of plans for the movie. So one weekend  in the spring of 2000, I started reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone to her. I read the whole book in one weekend. We did nothing else that weekend and at the end of the book I has nearly lost my voice and she fell in love with Harry and his friends. She was six years old.

She taught herself to read just so she could read the Harry Potter books to herself. There have been several midnight release parties at the bookstore and movie theater alike. Since then she has reread the books and watched the movies many times. The characters of JK Rowling are like old friends. She has shared much with them through the years. She has celebrated and mourned with them each time she has reread those books. Each book was bought and promptly devoured. Often she stayed up very, very late reading.  Reading Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was one of those nights. Near the end of the book, she came out of her room. It was after midnight and I started to scold her until I saw her face. She sobbed inconsolably in my arms while I held on tight. She cried even harder through the last book.

Although there were no more Harry books, a whole new world of magic and imagination opened up to her. Not all of the other books she has loved have had a paranormal element to them, but they have all been a portal to another world.

She cried through much of the last movie last night. Yes, it was a story of much loss, but I think she was really saddened by something else. She is seventeen now, nearly eighteen. The release of the last movie is the end of her childhood. Like Harry, Ron and Hermione, she has to face the adult world and it's sometimes ambiguous questions. She has to face loss and betrayal. She has to find love and friendship and navigate their sometimes winding path. No more can a kiss from her mother soothe all ills. She is eager to go out into the world and I find it so hard to uncurl my fingers and let her go and follow her heart, which doesn't lead her where I might wish her to go.

In the end, in that theater packed full of people it was just she and I. This time when she cried she didn't even hold my hand.

Reader's Romance

Since I've started the blog, I have thought of writing on this topic several times. I have heard a great number of romance readers share how they discovered romance, or how they rediscovered it. Every time I hear the stories, I reflect on my own reading past. The most recent one I've read is by Megan Mulry. Megan writes at length about the intellectual shame attached to reading genre literature and romances in particular. If you haven't read her post yet, go and read. I'll wait. It's that good.

I don't know why romance novels are so particularly despised. Perhaps because they primarily are connected to women's concerns. Perhaps because happiness is so suspect among the intelligentsia. Perhaps because of a puritanical disdain for all things sexual.

I was very young when I first started reading romance novels. I wasn't a very early reader, but once I could read on my own, I read incessantly. By fifth grade I had read everything in our local library's children's section. Then I discovered Barbara Cartland. I loved everything about those novels. They were short enough that I could read a couple on a summer's afternoon, but filled with people in a past so distant and foreign to me. From there, I moved on to other category romances and then the bodice rippers of that era. I devoured them all. Straight on into Judith Krantz.

It drove my father crazy. That wasn't why I chose to read romances, but I think in the end it was at least some of the reason why I stopped reading them. He didn't disapprove of romance in particular. He didn't really read any popular literature, except for a few notable exceptions (John Lecarre being the one he loved most). He was the son of immigrants, the first in his family to graduate from college. Our house was filled with books when I was growing up. I once counted them when we were taking them all off the shelves of the book cases that lined the walls. I stopped after two thousand.  People who don't love books always think that it must have been awful growing up in such a stuffy house. It didn't feel that way at all. Books surrounded our family and were a place to escape. They were loved and discussed, but revered. My father was still miffed about a copy of  a Cheever novel that I crayoned as a toddler.

When my friends and I were caught reading an especially filthy Harold Robbins book, in disgust my father gave me a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Of course I loved it. I then went on to read all of Austen. There were others after her. It wasn't a hard end to it. I slid into the world of 'adult' books. I read some science fiction for a bit longer, but even then there was Lewis and Wells to entice me away. Perhaps it was because of my father's books, but I didn't usually dislike the books we were required to read. With very few exceptions, I loved them all. The Red Badge of Courage. The Raisin in the Sun. Whitman. Shakespeare. Orwell.  I left the books of my youth behind to embrace a more formidable intellectual life. There are so many books that I opened thinking I would have to endure them only to fall in love with them. Most of them were sitting there on the shelves I walked past every day. Then in college there were still more books, some I'd never even heard of before, waiting for me to fall in love with them.


I don't love those books any less today than I did then. I still have many of them on my shelves. But they are sitting there next to some much more modern writers. Those other  books have covers that are bright and cheery. And inside those covers is a sweet and open embrace of happiness and love.

And, yes, sex, too.

June TBR Challenge 2011: Lead Me On

June is the month of contemporaries. I have quite a few contemporaries in my TBR pile. I wasn't really sure when I started the TBR Challenge which one I would pick there are so many I've been hoarding, even more on my list of books to buy. As the months went by my choice became a lot easier.

I hang out on twitter. A whole lot. I follow some of the smartest and funniest people in the romance community. Some of them are actually twitter friends; others are just people whose twitter conversation is full of useful information or timely links. Or in the case of Victoria Dahl, fun. Dirty, smutty fun. If you haven't seen her around twitter you really should check her out. She's hilarious.

So when June rolled around I picked up her 2010 release, Lead Me On. It's the final book in a trilogy. I didn't realize it when I bought it and it undoubtedly is part of the reason I was so slow to get around to reading it. I tend to be pretty uptight about reading a series in order. Based on how fun it is to read her tweets, I wanted to give Victoria's book a try. I'm so glad I did. I'll even go back and read the earlier books.

Here's the lowdown: Jane Morgan is trying her damnedest to repress her past, her family, even a part of herself and live her perfect life. She isn't perfectly happy, but it isn't for lack of trying. Then her younger brother gets arrested and her carefully constructed lies begin to unravel.

Adding to her family problems, is the hot, hard, tattooed Chase. In a great twist, it's Chase who falls for Jane, despite her desperate attempts to remain uninvolved. They have amazing, raw and passionate sex and Jane does her best to make sure it stays nothing but sex. Chase is the one pursuing a more real emotional attachment.

This is a book that deals with some very serious issues. Family issues are hard to escape. Hard to make peace with even years later. Jane is a mess. Watching her futilely flee her past should be painful. Jane certainly faces some harsh problems. But layered over that, the book is sensual and playful. When Jane is near tears, Chase always manages to make her laugh. In the end that is the my favorite part of the book. Even when things seemed grim, I never doubted that Jane and Chase would somehow find a way to be together.

Books for Precocious Readers

This began as a reply to Morton Gray's comment. But then there were too many links to include in a comment. And once I get started talking about kids' books, I do get a bit long winded. I had the same troubles for many years. Patience was a precocious reader, but at eight years old found even Nancy Drew books too intense. In her defense, we had a Nancy Drew computer game. Prudence was bad at it and I was worse. Poor Nancy routinely died from our bad choices. Patience had good reason to worry over Nancy.

I found some of the most satisfying books for the kids at that age were some of the older titles. They have a complexity of language and story that is satisfying, while skirting some of the darker bits. Swallows and Amazons never caught with my kids, but is often recommended.  The Eager books however were much loved at our house. There are Mr Pooper's Penguins which is a new movie and other award winning books. Andrew Clements books are amusing and fun but still hold a place in my kids' bookshelves.

As he gets a bit older, there are some more modern books as well that appeal because of the interesting content, even after the reading level is a bit unchallenging, but still have that reassuring feeling that nothing bad would happen.

Anyone have anything else to recommend to a young reader who doesn't want to read anything too dark?

#yasaves

This week, there has been a lot of talk online about an article in the Wall Street Journal. The article claimed that the dark themes in the current popular YA books are bad for kids. There was a huge outcry. I won't repeat all of the arguments here. The #YAsaves on Twitter and a subsequent article in WSJ answer these questions better than I can as an author who doesn't write YA.

I don't have anything much more to add as an author, but I do have thoughts as a parent. I think the article approaches the question in completely the wrong way. My teenaged daughters have read  scads of the more sober themed YA books.

Some they  didn't like the difficult themes. Some they didn't finish because they felt uncomfortable. Some they loved despite the darkness. Some changed their lives.

But those are my kids reactions. Even my kids, who are fairly similar in tastes, don't agree. Prudence loved I am the Messenger. But it broke her heart so she won't touch The Book Thief, Patience's most favorite book ever. Not every kid is the same. The Goosebumps series was wildly popular when I volunteered in the school library. My girls never read Goosebumps and aren't going to see any of the latest horror movies. They are easily spooked. That isn't an indictment of RL Stine. That is just my children.

As parents, it's our job to know our children's limits. And YA literature covers a broad age range. Not many 17 year olds are reading what their 13 year old siblings enjoy. And it's supposed to be like that. I have sent books back to the library or book store unread. It wasn't a popular choice, but after a couple that slipped past me lead to nightmares, they understood.

Now that they are older, my kids censor their own reading. There are a few  books that went back unfinished to the library. It's very hard to find Urban Fantasy or Paranormal Romance with relatively light sexual content.

There has been rape and eating disorders, murder and casual sex, violence and mental illness. But I don't think my kids were harmed by all of the things that they have read.

The book that cause the most tears to be shed in our house is an autobiography. I think the real tragedies of someone's life are worth my daughter's tears. I know she is a better person for having a literary relationship with that author.

Patience and Prudence

I have two teenaged daughters. It is all the angst and tear filled fun that you would imagine. I call my daughters Patience and Prudence online.

 I started calling them nicknames online after participating in some school related email groups. Some of the parents in the group had had problems with school administrations spying on them online; that information was then used to undermine the parent's efforts to get school services. i have been lucky enough never to have had that kind of relationship with my kids' schools, but it's a habit I have kept.

They both have had various nicknames through the years. This pair of names is one we've all always been especially fond of because of how the girls got them. One of our family's favorite places to go is Sanibel Island. One fall our family went to the island with my mother-in-law as she recovered from surgery. We had a cottage on the beach and the kids were little enough that they lived to collect the shells. 

One night we went out to eat. The restaurant had a musician. The girls were enchanted and sat perfectly attentive in their seats at out outdoor table. They had braids to tame their hair still wet from the beach. When they tipped the man to play some song for them he called them Patience and Prudence.

 As he got ready to play their song, he told the story of the original Patience and Prudence and picked my elder timid and cautious daughter to be Prudence. He named my younger carefree and easy-going daughter Patience. Our family thought the names so accurate that they have just stuck. Even know, nearly a decade later, my girls will still answer to those names.

Watching my Kid Cry

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I had a lovely day. Coffee in bed. Handmade cards from the girls. My husband made dinner and the kids cleaned up. I read a lot and even wrote enough to have felt productive. It seemed a perfect day.

Until my daughter came to me in tears. A friend of hers told her that she had attempted suicide. The girl doesn't even live in the same city as we do. The suicide attempt is long over and the girl is seeing a therapist. There really was no reason to fear it would be repeated.

It was hard for to imagine Patience. Her friend, who I'll call Sally, is just the sunniest and most fun FB friend that Patience has. Although they haven't seen each other in a couple of years, their internet friendship is strong and it is a rare week when they don't talk to each other. It was hard for Patience to realize how little we really know of what someone truly feels.

It is an awful thing to see my child so sad and know that there really is nothing that I can say to make it better. It's awful that kids feel that alone, even when they have friends who love them so. It's awful to know that you can't fix everything for your friends.

My heart hurts.

TBR Challenge 2011: Her Singapore Fling

I cheated a little bit this month with the TBR Challenge 2011 book I chose. It is a new release, so obviously not something collecting dust on the night table. In my defense, it's the last book in a string of connected books about the Bennet siblings and I have had to wait some time for it to be released! Right off the bat, I can tell you I think it was worth the wait.
The Book Her Singapore Fling  by Kelly Hunter


The Particulars an April 2011 Harlequin Presents title (published as Red Hot Renegade in the UK)

Why it was my next had to read? I loved the other Bennet family books. Enough that I went back and hunted down the first in the series after jumping in the middle, something that I rarely bother to do.

The Blurb:In desperate need of protection, Jianne Xang-Bennett reluctantly turns to her estranged husband, martial arts expert Jacob Bennett, for help. But there are problems: they've been separated for twelve years and cannot be in the same room together without arguing or ripping each other's clothes off—often at the same time!

But Jacob will go to extremes for those he loves, and Jianne is the only woman who can bring this honorable warrior to his knees. Can they delve beneath their red-hot desire and blazing anger to find the love that has always been hiding?

Review: I was a bit nervous about reading this book. Jianne is mentioned by the other siblings as the biggest source of guilt and regret from their wild youth. I didn't really want to read a book where either the heroine had made a huge deal of something minor or beloved characters from other books were villainised. Hunter walks that fine line of keeping me happy in both respects very well. Jianne is a sympathetic character with real complaints about her husband's past treatment, but she's not above acknowledging her own part in the failure of their marriage. She is also a great study in how to make a quiet and non confrontational heroine something other than a doormat. She politely and resolutely stands her ground and backs down her larger, louder ex-husband.

Jacob is taciturn and even veering into sullen. But he knows it and he's trying hard to do the right thing, even if he isn't always correct about what that is. I had a real soft spot for him and I enjoyed seeing his interactions with his siblings which are appropriately brief. I loved watching him as he rediscovered the wife he never stopped loving. Slowly he learns to bend enough to meet her halfway.

It's not a flawless book. The suspense element is wrapped up a bit too easily at the end to fit into the brief word count, but, as with most Presents titles, the couple is more interesting than the plot.

One of the reasons that I wanted to write about this book in particular is the surprising things about this book. The heroine is Chinese. She's the first Asian Presents heroine I can recall reading and it really worked well here. It defined many things about Jianne's character.  Hunter even uses the language on the page to evoke that musical cadence that native Chinese speakers have when they talk.

The hero isn't wealthy. He's not a business tycoon at all. Make no mistake he's successful by any measure, except that of the Presents hero. And the heroine? Tons of money. Loads more than her husband. And Jacob has a problem with this the way many men would. What's more, the antagonist is more the model for traditional Presents hero: an absurdly wealthy man who won't take no for an answer. A delicious bit of irony there. And yet Jacob is clearly cut from the same cloth as the Presents hero. 

Honestly it didn't bother me at all. The money thing actually added depth to the conflict between Jianne and Jacob. It all ended up feel surprising unpredictable. It seems to me that the category romances that I've read lately have been surprisingly fresh and innovative, while still honoring what I see as the core of expectations. Sharing the shelves this month with Hunter's book are other books that even from the blurb are clever twists on the traditional tropes.  One has a secret pregnancy that happens through IVF; the parents had never even met. Another has the book opening with the heroine rescuing the hero from drowning. I love the play on our assumptions that is occurring here. That just means my TBR pile is growing taller.

Pretty Posterboard

So I have my lovely posterboard filled with multi-colored post-its. I actually do feel that I noticed things about the book doing it this way. (Yes, Lani you were right.)

Anna DeStefano has a great post up about editing. It's filled with questions to ask about a scene as you are editing.

The ever smart Kristin Lamb has a post on structure which I'll be refer to more than a couple of times I think.

And, in case all this editing is making you feel a bit defeated, remember to be kind to yourself.