Archive for February, 2006

February 27, 2006

revisions

Michelle Styles blogged about revisions the other day and since I’ve just finished a bunch, I thought I would, too.

I’ve never written a book that didn’t need revisions. FEATURED ATTRACTION went through five different revisions: following the advice of my critique partners, following the advice of my RNA New Writers’ Scheme report, following the advice of an editor after my partial submission, following the advice of that editor who became my editor after the book sold, and a final bit of revisions for my new editor following some legal advice from the publishers. My revisions on other books since haven’t been so extensive, though that’s only luck, I know, and one day I’ll have to do the wholescale rip-em-out-and-start-again revisions again.

My revisions for RUSH were pretty minor: some tweaks of motivation, development of a character, some small cuts and small additions. I followed this process:

I read the revision letter several times. My editor is very clear but before I started, I wanted to make sure I understood every word she wrote.

Then I printed it out, highlighted the important bits, and wrote notes beside each point with my ideas of how to fix the problems.

Then I went through the ms on screen. Every time I made a change, I ticked it off on the letter. This took me two afternoons.

I found a different way to solve one of the problems that my editor pointed out, and so I followed my own ideas for revision on that one point, and emailed her to ask her if that was all right. Fortunately she’s said yes so after a quick skim-through tonight I’ll be sending it off tomorrow. Yay!

What’s your process?

my cyber mum

Kate Walker wrote the nicest thing on her blog today after receiving my books in the post.

I cried.

February 25, 2006

contest

My husband, as seen above pretending to be shocked at a saucy bit of FEATURED ATTRACTION, has drawn names out of a bowl, and the winner of my contest for a copy of my first book is Katie Stalham, of New Zealand.

This contest was so successful (20 people entered, and I didn’t even know some of them!) that I’m immediately having another one, again for a copy of FEATURED ATTRACTION. Email me the answer to the following question via my website by next Saturday and I’ll get my husband to pick another winner:

In the story, Jack and Kitty get locked in a cinema with a year’s supply of three things. What are they?

(Hint: the answer’s on my website or in my newsletter, if you got it.)

Featured Attraction

…is ON THE SHELVES!

I am quite ridiculously excited. My husband and I made total fools of ourselves in the shop taking pictures and of course he rearranged the shelves so that my book was taking up the shelf space he deemed sufficient.

We’d nearly left when I realised I didn’t have a photo on my phone yet so I made him go back and take another.

You can see WIFE FOR A WEEK, by my fellow Modern Extra launch author Kelly Hunter, on the shelf next to my book. I also picked up Kate Hardy’s HER HONOURABLE PLAYBOY.

Yippee!

Tomorrow I’ll post the winner of my contest draw (so you still have time to enter!) but if you don’t win, I’m going to start a new contest, too.

February 21, 2006

most excellent, dude

I’m so excited about life today.

First, I got a BIG box of books–my author copies of Featured Attraction! Hooray!

(There’s still time to enter to win one–lookie here.)

Second, I’m getting my website and blog redesigned and I had a sneak preview today. It should be mega-cool, very stylish and easy for me to update myself.

Third, my editor emailed me to say she loves Rush and after some small revisions and a title change it should be out in October. I’m going to do the revisions this weekend, thereby giving me an excuse to revisit these characters I adore and listen to their music soundtrack.

Fourth, one of my friends has been offered another book contract, but I’m not sure if I can post about it yet, so I’ll keep quiet about who it is until she tells me it’s okay.

I can go to bed happy.

Oh, and the photo below is of Rydal Water in the Lake District, from my visit last week with Anna who blogged about it, including our decadent Wheel Of Dessert and the naming of Golden Balls Falls.

February 19, 2006

this is where I was this morning

February 15, 2006

five favourite guilty pleasures

Kris tagged me with this one.

I had some trouble defining what a “guilty pleasure” is. I indulge in many pleasures, but they’re not all guilty. I decided that in order to be a guilty pleasure, it can’t have any educational or professional value at all, it can’t even remotely be considered as tax-deductible, it probably causes harm to me or to others, it may be disgusting, and it is most likely a total waste of time, money, energy, or calories.

This got rid of most of my non-guilty pleasures, which involve reading, movies, ogling beautiful men, lingerie, travel, extortionate telephone bills, hot water, sleeping for vast amounts of time, making up sexual fantasies, expressing my displeasure in offensive ways, singing loudly to music, being incredibly nosy, and surfing the internet when I have work to do.

Therefore my five guilty pleasures are:

1. Turning on the central heating and sitting with my back up against a radiator for hours, even after the house is perfectly warm.

2. Buying new shoes that I do not need and that are not on sale. If I need them, it’s okay to buy them. If they’re on sale, then they’re mandatory to buy. If they’re horribly expensive and I don’t need them at all, they’re a guilty pleasure.

3. Finishing off that last little bit of wine in the bottle when I really have had more than enough.

4. Buying chips from the chippy and not eating them all and then having the cold leftover ones for breakfast the next morning.

5. Judge Judy.

I’m tagging Michelle, Anna, and Sela. I’d tag two more people, but you know what? Being lazy is another of my guilty pleasures.

I’m off to the lake district for a few days and will check in a bit later, hopefully with some photos. Until then, I’ve got a post on Romancing The Blog.

are men as romantic as women?

Last night’s debate was a roaring success. Biddy and I sat on the train going through famous romantic men and deciding that most of them had either a) been created by women, or b) were secretly gay. Our fellow District Line passengers were looking at us rather strangely.

I knew it was going to go well when Katie called me from the pub while I was still on the train to ask what they could get us for a pre-debate drink!

The library was all set up for the debate, with huge posters everywhere. To tell you the truth, I was a little bit nervous. The men looked very sure of themselves. Roger had a mysterious-looking shopping bag and Stephen was carrying a suitcase. All of them had notes, and Michael assured us that they had devised a strategy for their success.

However, both Katie and Elizabeth were supremely serene, so my confidence was restored. The audience was friendly, smiling, and receptive.

Roger began the debate for the male side by whipping out bunches of roses and handing them to the women. I would’ve said this was playing dirty–except for the fact that I now had some very nice roses. His argument was that men were the naturally more adventurous sex, more spontaneous and more interested in the romantic chase.

I had to rebut this argument, and readers of this blog will be unsurprised to know that I took the high moral and cultural ground. My point was that men are generally more obsessed with sex than love, which I proved by quoting the deathless pop songs, “Nasty Girl” by the Notorious BIG and “Beep” by the Pussycat Dolls.

Wisely and probably more appropriately, Michael took the argument into more literary territory by examining the heroes of some of his favourite romantic novels, making me feel utterly uneducated. Like Roger, he employed an impressive charm offensive.

Katie then, in my opinion, demolished Michael’s point by speaking eloquently off the cuff about how women find true commitment more romantic than extravagant gestures, including the show-stopping anecdote, NOT about herself I hasten to add, about a woman who was chagrined to find her lover had given her a gift certificate to have her pubic hair waxed into the shape of a heart.

Stephen was dressed in his Regency gear and made full use of his heroic appearance to talk about the most popular heroes of romance through the ages, from Rhett Butler to Mr Darcy. I believe he also read out a description of my own Oz, but I may have been slightly delirious at this point.

Elizabeth Lord summed up for the distaff side, speaking simply and from the heart about her own experiences of true love, and how in her experience it’s the woman who keeps the romance alive in a marriage, while the man has a bit of a snooze in front of the telly.

After a lively and erudite discussion from the audience, the vote was taken: the result was a tie. The final decision went to Jean Woolmer, as organiser of the event and chair of the debate, and she cast her vote that men were as romantic as women.

So the men carried the day and proved themselves equally romantic as women. And looking at my beautiful red roses, I’m not inclined to argue.

February 14, 2006

celebratory eye candy

Well, so much for that. My students bug me to say hello to them, and I do, and they don’t even say hello back. Humph. I can tell when I’m not wanted. See if I ever say hello to YOU lot again.*

In other news, Michelle has just been offered a two-book contract with Mills & Boon Historical Romance. Apparently the hero of her second Roman Empire-set book, A Noble Captive, looks like Eric Bana. And so, since I’m also planning on basing a hero on him in the near future, here is a photo of the fine Australian actor Mr Bana looking all classical and half-naked as Hector in Troy:

Nothing like a bit of eye candy to get a celebration rolling.

Oh, and happy Valentine’s day. I’m not going to post about that, because I’ve already written a Romancing the Blog column about it for Thursday.

* I’m being sarcastic about the students.

February 13, 2006

half term

God, I love half term.

Stayed in bed this morning until 10, dozing and reading and generally being lazy. Got up and did some work in a half-assed way; I made some bookmarks to give out tomorrow, which are pretty good, though the book covers are fuzzy. Then I went into town and got my hair cut, faffed around a bit, got a coffee. Now I’m going to the post office and then I’m going to dye my hair and contact some local reporters and do some reading.

My students are always telling me they read my blog during school holidays and that I never say hello.

So: Hello, students. I hope you’re enjoying half term as much as I am.

February 12, 2006

romance

On Tuesday, I’m participating in an event at a library in Upminster: a debate on the topic “Are women more romantic than men, or vice versa?” Katie Fforde, Elizabeth Lord, and I are one team, and Roger Sanderson, Stephen Bowden, and Michael Taylor are on the other.

Now I think our team is pretty strong. However, Roger is a silver-tongued devil and Stephen has a brain the size of a planet. I haven’t met Michael yet judging from the other two, he’s most likely a formidable opponent.

So I figure I’ll cheat a bit and conduct an informal survey to drum up some ideas. O ye readers of this blog, answer me this question:

In which ways are women more romantic than men?

February 11, 2006

noodles times two

I have great girlfriends. They’re supportive and fun and interesting. I know this because I’ve spent the past two evenings with two of them, both times, coincidentally, eating noodles.

Noodle one: Never look down at your own thighs.

On Thursday I happened to be passing through London and so met up with Biddy. She wasn’t quite done with work when I arrived in Covent Garden so I did some shopping. Y’see I had these two pairs of jeans that I bought several years ago in the US. They were both low-hipped flares, and they were the most comfortable things ever. Unfortunately, in the way that jeans do, they both developed huge holes in the butt.

So I’d decided that unless I wanted to show some major assage to the world, I should get some new jeans. I hied myself into Urban Outfitters, which is probably far too trendy a shop for me. I know this because instead of looking at comfy, washed-denim jeans, I found myself trying on skintight black drainpipes. The kind you have to hop up and down to get over your hips. I hopped up and down, zipped up the zipper, a task which seemed to require most of my strength, and then looked down at myself.

My thighs looked like bulging black-encased sausages.

But then I looked in the mirror. In the mirror, my thighs looked okay. The wise sales assistant, reading my expression, said, “Never look down at your own thighs.”

This seemed like good advice, but I still didn’t trust her. The mirror might be rigged with some sort of slimming device in order to convince aging sagging thirty-somethings to buy clothes designed for waifish teenagers.

So I called Biddy and she rushed from work. I showed her the jeans. She nodded and did not look at me like I was crazy. And so this is how I ended up replacing comfortable jeans with some sort of medieval (yet trendy) torture device.

Anyway, I digress. We went to le Jardin for champagne. This is an extravagance of which I totally approve. And then, as an antidote for feckless champagne spendage, we went to our favourite Vietnamese restaurant in Chinatown. The menu at this place is absolutely huge and contains such interesting items as Vietnamese frogs’ legs with congee and chilli beef brisket with yam. Invariably, however, whenever Biddy and I end up at this place we both always order big bowls of Monk’s Vegetables Rice Noodle Soup. These always include assorted strange mushrooms and interesting vegetables. Eating at a window table in Chinatown is interesting because people stop and stare inside at what you are eating.

The soup was delicious and the company was great. We promised ourselves we’d order something different next time…but then again, we always do.

Noodle two: Five pubs and a cute waiter.

On Friday I met my friend Jenny at a very quiet pub in Reading called The Woodley Arms. This is the sort of pub that only ever has regulars in it and I’ve never seen the lounge bar with more than ten customers. The landlady is a big reader and often when you go in there she honks this big carrier bag of crime paperbacks out from behind the bar and offers you your pick. After a pint of cider, we decided we were hungry, so we left the Woodley to go to another regular pub of ours, The County Arms, for some food.

It was fricking FREEZING outside. I hate the cold. I can never quite decide why I moved to the UK from Maine and not someplace that is actually warm on a regular basis. Jenny is from Canada and has even less excuse. Anyway, when we got to the County, they were having karaoke. Often this is fun, but you need to be drunk, and we weren’t yet. So we went to another pub: they were blaring football. A third pub: at the last minute, Jenny remembered she was avoiding some of the people in it. A fourth pub: here, we finally ordered a drink, but they didn’t do food.

One of the reasons why being with Jenny is interesting is that she works for the council in the town centre and she knows huge amounts of gossip about the shadier side of life there. I never knew so much about the prostitutes, drug addicts, and alcoholics of Reading until she got this job. She gave me a running commentary on some of the people who passed the pub window.

Eventually we decided we needed to go to the noodle bar on Union street. This place also has a huge menu, but we had what we always have: big bowls of Ho Fun Noodle Soup, mine with roasted duck, hers with tofu and vegetables. We always ask for a little dish of chili oil and use about two drops of it. Halfway through our meal, the door opened and a Reading football supporter shouted, “Reading!” into the restaurant, letting us know that Reading had won the game.

The soup was delicious and the company was great. Jenny thought the waiter was cute and tipped him extra–not hard when your huge meal costs about £4.50. I suspect we will never order anything else at this restaurant because, as with Biddy, the shared ritual is half the point.