Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I also got to pitch to some wonderful editors and will be sending them my stuff ASAP. (Except that 1920s story I have to cut by 10,000 words and edit since I finished it and shoved it aside months and months ago.)
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
He sputtered a little. “Isn’t it proper for the two of you to meet here in the parlor?”
“Oh, it’s no bother,” Margaret said casually. Waving a dismissing hand she added, “Let the young couple have a few moments of privacy.”
Nodding to her stepmother, Kirsten quickly exited. Her footsteps echoing sharply in the hall, she wasn’t paying attention and ran straight into James’ chest.
“Oh!” she gasped, looking up at him.
His arms steadied her, and Kirsten swore she could feel his touch through her many layers of clothing. Caught in his intense blue gaze, all she could think of were the things Margaret told her. For a heartbeat, his face showed his emotions, and it was the James she remembered. But then he closed himself off, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.
Breath short, she shakily stepped backwards. His hands stayed on her waist for a moment, before he, too, moved away.
“He’s an insufferable man,” she managed. Her voice sounded breathless, and she had to clear her throat before going on. “I don’t know how you stand him in your house.”
He looked to the side, and she wondered what he thought. “He’ll be gone before long.”
Opening her mouth to say more on Leftenant Cromwell, Kirsten changed her mind and stepped closer. This was her chance. Ignoring the nerves in her stomach, she said softly, “I hope for nothing more,” she turned his face to hers, wishing she was taller, “than for your attention.”
James’ surprise gaze hurt, but she went on.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his queue. His unpowdered hair was soft beneath her fingertips. “I don’t see why we have to be apart until our wedding night.”
Monday, October 25, 2010
Excerpt from Zombified:
Three shrunken voodoo heads, a single gold doubloon, an ancient German Luger, and one and a half wooden legs later, they gave up. The rest of the house was as dusty as the entryway, so they opened the shutters, unpacked their camping gear and set up camp before the unused fireplace.
Before Rebecca knew what was happening, Griffin’s lips were on hers and they’d made love in an abandoned mansion in the middle of Martinique. It was the most pleasurable day she could remember spending in a long while.
“No pirate treasure,” she sighed, propping her head on one hand and looking at him.
“No, but lots of dust.”
Rebecca frowned at his frown and traced the line of his jaw. “What do you expect?” she asked. “The place has been closed up for years.”
She swept her arm out to encompass the end tables, coffee table, piano, and old style chairs—some wicker, some old enough to be certifiable antiques. Not that she had any real notion of what a certifiable antique looked like.
“Dust is created by human skin,” he mumbled. Shaking his head, he grasped her hips and pulled her atop him. “Are you sure you want to stay here for the night? Or do you want to drive back?”
“Na,” she kissed his lips. “Let’s just stay here. We haven’t explored a fraction of the place. Plus,” her lips trailed along his jaw, and Rebecca wondered when she’d become so fascinated with a man’s jaw line. “Plus we’ll just have to drive back out tomorrow. What’s the point?”
“Definitely not an ordinary woman,” he said against her mouth. “Most I know would rather head back to the hotel than stay here. In the middle of nowhere.”
“Hey,” she smiled, “at least we have electricity.”
4 stars from Romantic Times
4 cups of coffee from Coffee Time
4.5 hearts from Night Owl Romance
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The answer I've always known and the one supported by a History Channel program I love: Worst Jobs in History.
In the 1997 edition of Facts on File Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins, Robert Hendrickson firmly asserts that “Escaping criminals in the 17th century would drag strong-smelling red herring across a trail to make pursuing blood-hounds lose the scent”. Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, and many dictionaries, say that red herrings were used to confuse the hounds chasing a fox.
The OED’s current entry for the figurative sense of red herring points to a reference in Nicholas Cox’s The Gentleman’s Recreation of around 1697 (Mr Ross says it was actually in a treatise by Gerland Langbaine on horsemanship that was bound into the third edition of this work without attribution) that appeared to suggest that hounds were trained to follow a scent by trailing a red herring on the ground.
This was a misunderstanding, as Langbaine included it in a section on training horses so that they became accustomed to following the hounds amid the noise and bustle of a fox hunt. He suggested a dead cat or fox should be dragged as a training-scent for the hounds, so that the horses could follow them.
If you had no acceptably ripe dead animals handy, he added, you could as a last resort use a red herring. Neither the original misunderstanding of the text or the correction suggests why red herrings might be thought of as laying a false scent to draw hounds off a trail, quite the reverse.
Eh, it all boils down to the same thing: to throw off the scent. To confuse the issue.
Monday, October 18, 2010
I can't stress this enough: conferences, despite the cost, are worth going to. You learn about writing, marketing, meet people, and talk about books. Yours, your favorite authors, the one you just finished, everything.
What are you waiting for? Have you signed up for a writer's conference yet?
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
2 conference, Disney, birthdays, holidays, AND writing? I'll never survive. Something's got to give and last night it was me.
Migraine, sinus pressure, you name it I had it. I even missed NCIS because of it all.
I'm such a big planner that I thought I had it all down. HA! Apparently I planned a little too much and I think it's catching up with me. I need to slow down, though who knows what'll give. I don't want to give up anything, but maybe I should cut back. On what, I don't know, everything seems to be a priority in my life.
My advice to you: take time for yourself, even if you're sitting on the couch dozing while watching Guys & Dolls...which I'm doing now before work.