Sweet!

Bama 36, Auburn 0.

Give a Gift that Lasts

I think this suggestion is an excellent idea. Keep local bookstores alive and kicking by giving the gift of books this holiday season.

And don't forget the online bookstores, too. Where you can find wonderful gifts like this and this. :)

Seriously, books are wonderful gifts that never stop giving. This weekend, I came across an old Reader's Digest Condensed Books tome and discovered the joy of Dick Francis and his jockey protagonist Sid Halley. I just ordered the other Sid Halley books as part of my Christmas gift to myself.

The nieces who live with me usually get books for Christmas (Harry Potter was big over the last few for my older niece, and my younger one will read anything with a princess or a dolphin in it). I also try to give books to my younger nieces and nephews who aren't in school yet but can still appreciate a good picture book.

So do yourself and your loved ones a favor this year. Take them on a wonderful trip of the imagination. Buy them books.

Linda Howard Award of Excellence

If you're unpublished (by RWA standards) and you want a chance to put your book in front of some top editors, I happen to know that the Linda Howard Award of Excellence is a great contest to enter.

NOTE: Postmark/Electronic NEW DEADLINE - Saturday, November 29, 2008

Here are the categories and the editors who'll be judging the finals:

Series/Short & Long Contemporary
Romance-based series novels.
Word count: 40,000 to 90,000
Final Judge: Susan Litman, Editor, Silhouette

Single Title
Romance-based novels published as individual titles. All publishers of individual titles of romance.
Word count: 90,000 to 110,000
Final Judge: Selina McLemore, Editor, Grand Central Publishers (formerly Warner)

Suspense (series or single title)
Romance-based novels that include an element of mystery or suspense.
Word count: 40,000 to 110,000
Final Judge: Megan MeKeever, Associate Editor, Pocket Books (Simon & Schuster)

Historical
Romance-based novels with non-contemporary settings, including regency & gothic romances. Word count: 40,000 to 110,000
Final Judge: Alicia Condon, VP, Editorial Director, Dorchester

Unique Genres (Paranormal, Futuristic, Fantasy, Time Travel)
Romance-based novels of any time setting that contain elements such as time-travel, paranormalor fantasy themes. All publishers of individual titles of romance.
Word count: 90,000 to 110,000
Final Judge: Melissa Singer, Editor, Tor

Sensual and Sizzling (Erotica)
Romance-based novels that include a high element of sexual tension or sexual play.
Word count: 40,000 to 110,000
Final Judge: Raelene Gorlinsky, Editor, Ellora's Cave

Young Adult
Romance-based novels published for the Young Adult market.
Word count: 90,000 110,000
Final Judge: Jennifer Heddle, Editor, MTV Books (Pocket/Simon & Schuster)

Inspirational
Romance-based novels published for the Inspirational market.
Word count: 40,000 - 90,000
Final Judge: Tina Colombo, Editor, Steeple Hill (Harlequin)

Series in particular needs some more entries, so if you have a series novel you've polished up and want to send around to get a read, this is a great chance!

Community Language

I was listening to the Rick and Bubba Show, a local (and syndicated) morning show, during my drive to work. The topic was World of Warcraft: The Wrath of the Lich King, which will be available for purchase one minute after midnight tonight. (Or would that be tomorrow? Whatever). Scott the Tech guy was explaining to the hosts why this event was such a big deal. He took calls which quickly devolved into WoW-speak—blood elves, fire mages, and all the other lexiconic minutiae involved with the massive online role playing game. About five minutes into the call, Bubba turned to Rick and said, "I think I'd be better off trying to understand Italian."

It was a laugh out loud moment, but there's truth in the joke. Communities often speak a language outsiders can't understand.

I used to be an X-Phile, the name for online fans of the TV show THE X-FILES. Our language included such terms and acronyms as shippers, noromos, MOTW, mytharc, MSR, CSM and the consortium. At times, we spoke in a series of subreferences, from "nobody here but the FBI's most unwanted" to "Mulder, it's me." It made perfect sense to those of us who watched the show and participated in the online discussions, but it could be a confusing tangle of terms to those who didn't.

I think for those of us who write (or want to write) for publication, it can be hard to capture the authenticity of a community without using some of the lingo. Southerners used terms that northerners don't. East coasters and west coasters, even in this day and age, still have different words for different things. And the more insular a community, the more differences you'll find.

On the other hand, too much authenticity can render your stories as incomprehensible as, well, WoW lingo to someone whose idea of role-playing game doesn't include a modem.

I like to think of writers as interpreters. We take specific characters, settings, situations and even language and interpret them into something a broad spectrum of readers can understand. So I might take an extra step to explain what MRE (meal ready to eat) is to someone who's never been in the military, or the difference between a crappie and a bass for someone who's not an avid fisherman. My readers can then have vicarious experiences through my characters without getting lost in the lexographic wilderness.

Have you ever had to play interpreter as a writer? Have you ever needed one as a reader?

Veteran's Day

Blackfive is all over it.

To all the men and women in the U.S. Armed Forces, thank you for your service and God bless you all.

Happy Birthday to the U.S. Marines

They're 233 years old today.

I have a special, writing-related fondness for the USMC. I don't actually know any Marines personally, but I met a few several years ago in Atlanta. I was attending the Moonlight and Magnolias conference, and the Marines were having some sort of seminar at the same Atlanta hotel. The stars aligned perfectly---Marines and romance writers in the same place. You couldn't have written a better scenario.

The Marines were just as fascinated with us as we were with them. And such gentlemen! As I commented to a friend later, "I don't think I ever truly understood what it was to feel like a woman until a Marine treated me like one."

So, Semper Fi and thanks for all you do, ladies and gentlemen of the USMC.

Update:

Here's a story I came across a few minutes ago that I think is a nice addendum to this post on the USMC's birthday.

God bless the U.S. Marines.

Alabama Football is Going to Kill Me

Good grief.

Shameless Plea

My Amazon.com page for COWBOY ALIBI is woefully lacking in reviews. I could use some, especially if you liked the book, but I'm a big girl. I can take a low rating, too.

So, if you've read COWBOY ALIBI, and you can post reviews at Amazon.com, I'd really appreciate a review. For that matter, if you've read FORBIDDEN TOUCH or one of my other books, I wouldn't mind seeing a review there, either. Remember, I don't care what you rate it. I just want to hear what you think about the book. It helps me gauge what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.

(You can also leave comments here, too, you know).

Guest Blogger: Jeff Rivera

Today, I'd like to introduce a guest blogger, Jeff Rivera. Or, better, allow him to introduce himself:

Once homeless and living in his car, award-winning novelist Jeff Rivera writes passionate stories of those often forgotten and neglected by society. He believes even in the eyes of a gang member, even beneath the soiled clothes of a bag lady or behind the tears of a lonely kid in the back of the class, there lies a common thread that links us all, the universal human story. He has made it his personal mission to help change the way the world thinks in a positive way through his stories. Mr. Rivera currently lives in New York City.

And here is an introduction to his book, Forever My Lady, and an excerpt from the book.

Originally independently published, Jeff Rivera's debut novel, Forever My Lady went on to be acquired by Warner Books/Grand Central. It tells the award-winning passionate story of a juvenile delinquent named Dio who is sentenced to prison boot camp. Everyone who he has ever trusted has given up on him except one special girl that promises to stay by his side no matter what, the love of his life, Jennifer. He promises he will to turn his life around for her and she promises will never leave him. In fact, they plan to marry one day. But when Dio is released from boot camp he discovers Jennifer is about to marry someone else.

EXCERPT:

“Don’t be stupid foo’. Don’t be a pendejo.”

Dio looked at his homie Spooky’s grip on his jacket. Most of his boys called Dio “Playboy” because all the ladies loved him, but those that had known him since he was a kid called him his real name, Dio.

He took another hit off his joint. He’d given up smoking over a year ago, had to, but on this day he was more nervous that he had ever been in his life. Thunder rumbled and rain poured, making it impossible to see. Thunder scared Dio, always had. Dio fought to keep from shaking. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. He tried to hide his fear. His mind was set. He had to do it.

Dio yanked his arm away from Spooky, and pushed the door open. “Just keep the car runnin’, ese.”

Spooky was a big guy, tattoos up and down his arm and a glass eye. He normally would have just kept Dio from leaving at all, but he knew nothing could stop him. Nothing at all. Dio jumped out the car. It was a ‘57 Chevy, slick red, with a chili-pepper-hot Mexican heina painted across the hood. Dio had painted that picture himself. Complete with chrome wheels.

He slammed the door shut and looked up at the Cathedral in front of him. Lightning illuminated its majestic towers, windows with an eerie stained glass. He’d spent many a night imagining this would be where he’d marry her. They’d have a huge wedding with members of their families flying in from all over the world just to watch this event; this marriage he thought was so destined to be. He’d put his everything into this dream, his one and only dream, and now as he yanked the heavy Oak doors open, his heart pounded like a subwoofer.

He dried his soaked clothes with his hand and scratched his shoes on the mat so as not to squeak across the old wood floor. The church was jam-packed, mostly with Mexicans and Puerto Ricans, but some blacks.

Probably his familia, Dio thought. How could she even think about marrying some pinche negro?
The grand organ music permeated the building while a choir of children sang, their voices echoing throughout the church. It smelled musty in the air, a mix of wood stain and must as if they never really cleaned the place, just painted over it.

He tried not to be too suspicious, slipping past every one. Funny, he was dressed probably better than he’d ever been. Black suit, his wavy black hair slicked back, starched white shirt, polished black shoes.

Dio had grown into a very nice looking young man. Maybe even could have been a model, had he played his cards right. Maybe if he hadn’t grown up in the slums of Northeast Vegas, he could have been one of those Latin heartthrobs that were in those magazines. Instead, most of the time he looked like the thug most people assumed he was just by looking at him.

But on this day, this very weird day, he was even wearing a tie. Jennifer would have been so proud of him if she could see him. Funny, he’d probably be the last thing she’d see.

He checked his jacket pocket to make sure it was still there. Yep, it felt like a brick pressed against his chest. But he was so numb, or more like so focused, that he was oblivious to it. All he knew was that he had to find Jennifer, and he would use any means necessary.

Wham! Dio bumped hard into a glass table. His thigh throbbed in pain as bullets dropped from his pocket and bounced off the tile floor. The sound echoed all over the lobby. People looked around for the source of the sound, but Dio managed to scoop them up before anyone could see.
He got up and noticed the beautiful ice sculpture on the table--melting, dripping like an ice cream cone in August. Melting just like his heart.

He saw Father Martínez, his priest, the one he’d grown up with. It was as if the whole world had turned against him. They’d sided with Jennifer, when this was supposed to be their wedding. It was as if she’d slapped him across the face, as if nothing they’d been through together even mattered. The whole thing was surreal.

She loved him. She’d said that over and over to him since they were little kids. She’d taken care of him and believed in him and dreamed with him and held him when nobody else could give a care.

“Estoy aquí para ti. No matter what -- Siempre,” they’d promised each other. And a promise was a promise.

"Don’t be stupid, Foo’. Don’t be a pendejo.” His brother’s scolding remarks kept playing in his head. He warned Dio to just let it go. It wasn’t worth it. Normally Spooky would have been all for it, but this time around he said to “olvídalo…let it go.” It was as if he sensed something was going to go wrong and, no matter how high Spooky had been, his gut was always right.

Dio only hoped this time around he was wrong. He had worked so hard. He could really get a fresh new start now, “a new lease on life,” as his probation officer used to say, but now he was risking it all to confront Jennifer.

Was Spooky right? Should he just let it go, face it that she didn’t want to be with him no matter how hard and bad it felt? Should he just forget the whole thing? Maybe he’d meet some other ruca. Time heals all wounds, they say, and maybe if he’d just -- But no, Dio shoved those thoughts out of his mind.

He’d spent the last year changing his life around for her, so they could be together, so he would be the man she said she’d always wanted, so he could be the daddy his daughter needed. They were meant to be together and he was going to make Jennifer understand that, if it was the last thing he would do.

He could see Jennifer’s family in the front, dressed in their Sunday best. Her mom always made a spectacle of herself with her gigantic summer hat in purple. She never did like Dio and he knew she probably orchestrated this whole thing, probably arranged the whole wedding herself.
He wondered if perhaps Jennifer was doing this just to make her mom happy, but then he saw her … the music changed, the children’s choir sounded so beautiful, he had to admit, so irritatingly perfect. All heads turned and gasped as the bride, Jennifer, made her way down the aisle. Her father took her arm, biting his lip, trying not to cry.

He looks nervous, Dio thought.

Jennifer looked incredible. How could she afford a dress like that? The guy must be rich or something. That’s probably what it was. That’s probably why she was marrying him. It had to be the money, the one thing Dio could never give her. Her gown had a laced top, cut just low enough to show her sensual bust line, but high enough to showcase the first class-act that she was. Her face was shielded by her veil. He hadn’t seen her in so long. It seemed like the whole auditorium held their breath with him.

Her mom made a dramatic spectacle of herself; her wails were the only thing that could be heard above the organ playing as the children’s choir reached a crescendo, then trailed off.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Even Dio had to fight the tears.

Thunder rumbled. Her father escorted her over to her groom. He was a nice looking man, a light-skinned black man. Maybe he was mulatto or something. He wore a striped, stuffed tie, not a traditional bow tie, and the tux must have been Armani or something. He had one of those smiles with teeth so white it blinded you. His gaze never left Jennifer, even as the priest rambled on and on with the vows.

“I, Antonio Estrella ---“

What kind of nombre was that? Estrella? Jennifer Estrella. It just didn’t match her. No le queda.

“… hereby take you as my wife, to have and to hold…”

There was a lump in the back of Dio’s throat. He wanted to burst out “No!” but it hurt so bad.

“I, Jennifer Lalita Sánchez …” He couldn’t believe his ears, she was promising him her life.

Thunder rumbled, the lights went out. There was a small gasp in the audience, but Jennifer just smiled, the candles illuminating her. She was too lost in the groom’s eyes.

“…to have and to hold, through sickness and health …” she continued.

He couldn’t help it anymore. Tears came streaming from Dio’s eyes. This was too much for him. He was about to explode. His blood boiled.

He looked around at all the stained-glass Bible stories, the creepy statue of Jesus on the cross. He swore Jesus was glaring right at him as if he was saying “No lo hagas…Don’t do it.”

He looked the other way but the statue of the Virgin Mary scolded him as well.

Dio couldn’t help but think how proud his own mother had been with how he’d changed his life around, the tears of joy she’d shed. He’d never seen her like that before. He shuddered to think how his mother would feel after all this went down, how ashamed she’d be. Maybe it would drive her to drinking again. Drinking again after how far she’d come around.

“With the power invested in me in the state of Nevada, I hereby declare you … man and wife.”
Dio couldn’t breathe. The only thing that kept him from passing out was seeing Jennifer’s face as her new husband lifted the veil. She was more beautiful than ever. She had olive-colored skin and was the type of girl that never did need any makeup, in fact she hated wearing it. But this time she was wearing just enough. Her dark brown hair was curled, glitter sparkled in it.

She looked like an angel, no, a goddess, better than the pictures Dio drew of her, better than he’d remembered her looking in his dreams.

He’d never seen Jennifer so happy. Not even when she was with him. She always seemed so distracted, but now she really did look like she was in love.

How could that be possible?

He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone. Didn’t she see that? How could she do this to him? The ice sculpture melted like it was on fire.

His heart raced as he reached for the .45 caliber in his pocket, which Dio called his cuete. He could hear the rain pounding against the stained-glass windows and the roof. His sweaty hands pulled for it, his heart in his throat. He crossed himself, closed his eyes and prayed he was about to do the right thing.

To purchase a copy of FOREVER MY LADY by Jeff Rivera click here.

This and That

A couple of things coming up...

Tonight's the big Halloween Mash on Writerspace. I'll be in the chat room starting at 8 pm eastern/7 pm central, talking about my books and my writing in general. Please drop by to chat with me. I'd love to talk to you.

Saturday is the Southern Magic Reader's Luncheon at the Homewood Library in Homewood, Alabama. I'll be among several fantastic authors on hand for the luncheon. Tickets are still available--just register online and you can pay at the door. The fabulous Christina Dodd is the keynote speaker at the luncheon, so if you're in the Birmingham, Alabama area, check it out.

Finally, sometime this week (probably tomorrow but maybe Friday) I'll be posting a guest blog from Grand Central Publishing author Jeff Rivera, whose personal life story is as interesting and inspiring as the story of the characters he writes about. I hope you'll drop by later this week and check out his latest release.

Normally, I Like Blue Tick Hounds...

Tonight? Not so much.


Kickoff happens any minute now.

Roll Tide!

UPDATE:

Well, I can't say it was a pretty win. But it was a win, and Alabama's 8 -0 for the season. I'll take it.

Fascinating Footage

Turn of the Century London.

Apparently I'm Too Old

To be a Bama fan.

One more game like that and I'll need a home defibrillator.

Feel the City Breakin' and Everybody Shakin'...

You just can't make some things up.

(h/t Hot Air)

My Current Favorite TV Commercial

"I really underestimated the creepiness."

Heh.

Fascinating Look at Communism and Hollywood

Everybody's heard of McCarthy, but this article shows a little of the backstory behind blacklisting. And it's not as cut and dried as some people think.

As a writer who, to some degree, has to depend on the good will of at least two people (my editor and my senior editor) to get my work published, the idea of political censorship is a real issue for me. And this article shows that censorship happens across the political spectrum, and it can be organized and insidious. We should fight against all forms of political censorship and let ideas live and die on their own merits.

I'm Big in Eastern Europe

Harlequin Books generally get printed in languages other than English. Fellow Harlequin/Silhouette writers have talked about getting copies of their books in Spanish, French and German. We also get copies of our books from England and Australia.

So far, my foreign language books have been from Estonia, Iceland and (though I didn't get copies of it) Romania. Two out of three in Eastern Europe. Pretty cool.

Here's Forbidden Touch in Estonian:

Here's Forbidden Territory in Romanian:

I wanted to see if I could find a link to my book in Iceland, but I can't find the only copy I have left (my dog ate the other one), so I don't remember the title or, for that matter, which book it was.

I'm looking forward to seeing if I have any foreign sales of Cowboy Alibi. Do cowboys sell well in other countries?

Cowboys

In honor of my September book (still available here , there and yon), I'm posting this Bill Whittle quote that I absolutely love:

You don’t evolve past being a cowboy. Being a cowboy is the pinnacle of evolution. Once you’re at cowboy, there’s nowhere to go but down. Cowboys don’t look for fights, but they don’t run away from them either. They do what they have to do, when they have to do it. And they usually have to do it alone, because everyone wants Black Bart’s gang out of town, but no one wants to walk down the street alongside the sheriff and get shot doing it.

You don't have to read the article, which is political, to appreciate the sentiment about cowboys. I think that's why so many women love cowboy heroes—that simple realization that a cowboy does what needs to be done, as efficiently as possible, even when the odds and the crowd are against him.

Web Design

This is an interesting article on web design—the dos and don'ts of designing clean, easily-navigable sites. I know that a lot of people, especially writers and aspiring writers, are putting thought into what they want from their websites. This article has some very good advice about the simple things you can do—or shouldn't do—to make your site easy for readers to enjoy.

Dear ESPN

It's been a long time since Alabama has so completely dominated a top-ten team the way they're currently handing Georgia their backsides in a basket.

It's unfair of you to keep showing me the sad, shell-shocked Georgia fans in their pretty black clothes every time Alabama scores. (Which happens to be just about every time they touch the ball).

Please stop killin' my buzz. Thank you.

UPDATE:

Georgia score its first points---a field goal on their first drive of the second half. And Alabama kicks their first punt of the night at 9:30 in the third quarter.

UPDATE #2:

Georgia just scored again. The good news? The third quarter is nearly over and they're still down by 21. The bad news? There's a whole other quarter to go.

If Bama scores, it'll take the air out of their sails and make it a lot harder to come back in the fourth quarter. But that's a big if, and Georgia didn't get to be #3 without knowing how to come back.

At least Bama has good field position after their kick-off.

UPDATE #3:

Okay, it's getting scary now. 92 yard punt return. Alabama 31, Georgia 17.

UPDATE #4:

Okay, a little breathing room. Alabama scored a field goal after a nice, longish drive. Alabama 34, Georgia 17. About 9:45 go to in the game.

UPDATE #5:

Clutch, baby. Alabama 41, Georgia 17. 4:15 to go in the game.

UPDATE #6:

Georgia scores but can't make the two point conversion. Alabama 41, Georgia 23. 3:00 to go.

UPDATE #7:

Eeek! Georgia recovers the onside kick. Nails back to nubs.

UPDATE #8:

Georgia scores again, but it took them over a minute to do it, thanks to Alabama playing against the long play and forcing them to drive in short plays. Alabama 41, Georgia 30. They fail to get the onside kick this time. No time outs left for Georgia, so we just have to hit the knee a couple of times and it's over.

UPDATE #9:

Alabama wins, 41-30. Roll Tide!