Anna C. Bowling, romance writer

2008-07-15T17:05:00.003-04:00

My friend, Mary, is making me blog again. It's, mm, shall we say, been a while. June was mostly a blur of ambulances and ERs. When you're able to tell the hospital security staff thanks, but you know a better route than the one they just recommended for getting out and back in after hours, you know you're dealing with something. In this case, Rheuben's asthma. For June, we were its chew toy, but that's passed and he, and the family, are doing much better.

Part of the deal is, this is supposed to be a blog about writing historical romance, and none of the above felt very on topic. There was some writing done during that time, and some reading. Those of you who have ongoing reasons to have contact with medical professionals probably know all about the hospital bag; that lovely, handy dandy thing one keeps ready by the door in case it's hospital time again. Special bag only for hospital visits, with important stuff in it, like lists of medications, phone numbers of friends who will gladly come get you at the ER at three AM for the second time in a week and spring for mini burgers at Denny's on the way home. Clean socks (trust me, these are needed,) toothbrush, lotion, books for each family member to read.

For me, the choice is easy; historical romance. While for most of the summer, I've been reading the VC Andrews (ghostwriter only) backlist for study purposes, when I want something to read for me, historical romance is the ticket. Ever since I was eleven years old and devoured the copy of Bertrice Small's The Kadin that I'd purloined from my mother's bedside table, I knew I'd found what I wanted to read and write for the rest of my life. What's more universal than a love story? In many ways, this rough summer has been a recharge; yes, this is what I love and want to do for the rest of my life.

One might call it research in the rough side of being a romance heroine; the life or death concern for the one man in this whole world that means everything, and the joy in bringing him home. The sharing of odd moments, like both noticing that you/he's stayed in this hospital room before. The "we've been through rough stuff before and we'll get through this" squeeze of the hand when one of you isn't able to speak. How can anyone call such things unrealistic when I've lived them? This seals it; romance is real life. The grit and the angst that naturally find their way into my stories, those are real parts of romance as well. Hopefully we won't have to have a summer like that again, but neither of us would trade it; we've grown, become more us (and more him and more me) and I can honestly say it's made me a better writer as well.

This past weekend, my friend Linda (who has been to many many late night ER trips and subsequent mini burgers) and I reconnected with Mary after family responsibilities had taken time usually given to socializing, and it was like a whole retreat in an afternoon. Cold beverages, kitchen table, talking of life, loss, faith, furbabies (Mary has a new puppy, our family has Skye kitty) and of course, romance novels. Who's reading what, what wouldn't each of us touch with a ten foot pole, what's good that we've missed? What stunk up the place like week old flounder? What's coming out new? Normal and healthy talk, if you ask me. As part of which, came my promise to Mary to blog again.

I'm writing this entry at the end of another day of prepping the final manuscript of Orphans in the Storm, my English Civil War historical romance to Awe-Struck. I wrote this a couple of years ago, and now as I'm putting the final polish on Simon and Jonnet's adventure, revisiting the fabled Isle of Man and Charles II's Dutch court in exile, again, like that afternoon at Mary's, it's like a homecoming. Historical romance is my home, and I ain't moving.

2008-05-22T14:54:00.002-04:00

Taking control of the out-of-control

With a muffled "oof" sound, picture one pair of writer's hands (we can tell they're writer's hands because the nails are au naturel, tinged with ink and have trace amounts of cat hair held on with Bath and Bodyworks lotion (today's scent: pineapple.)) grappling over a ledge. More "oofs," and a head of long red hair held by a black scrunchie becomes visible. A mighty heft and the rest of the writer appears. The experienced reader can tell immediately what's been going on.

The writer's spectacles, perched on the end of the nose, bear more finger smudges than they ought, and sit slightly askew. The writer thumbs them back up into their proper position and the reader gives a knowing nod. That's how the smudges get there. The writer dusts herself off, brushing hands on her long denim skirt and adjusts her sandals. She looks around. Almost summer. Huh. So time does pass outside the pages. She reaches down below the ledge and tugs on the rope that lifts a bulky bag. Books, of course. Lots and lots of books. She spills them out onto the ground, casting a furtive look about her.

Not, of course, that she cares much what others might think of her treasure. If they don't want it, more for her. The scent of books long-loved wafts through the air. The viewer catches a whiff. Is that...pre-1995 romances? Arguably the dividing line between styles of historical romance. The reader inches closer, but takes a step back. There be adverbs there, the viewer reminds herself. Alpha jerks, too. Lots of room for them to lurk in all those pages.

Ah, the writer reminds her, but there is room for alpha heroines as well, and all the world to roam. All the time they need to acheive their goals in there as well. Years and years if that's what's needed.

Years? But what about the rest of the series? If the first hero is taking all that time to win his heroine, what about his friends/brothers/cousins? Surely they're not sitting idle.

The writer settles back on her haunches and takes two Diet Cokes out of the bag. She opens one and sets one at a safe distance between herself and the reader. She peers over the rims of her spectacles. There isn't always a series. Sometimes the book ends with only one hero and heroine's story.

But what, the reader asks, scratching her head with one hand and taking the offered beverage with the other, happens to everyone?

They live happily ever after, the writer says, as though that's the most natural thing in the world.

But, the reader asks, we never see them again?

The writer pauses to allow herself an amused chuckle. Anytime, she tells the reader, you want. Their future turns out exactly as you wish it to. That's the happily ever after part. That's what heroes -- and heroines-- do. It used to happen more often.

The reader takes a cautious sip. Do tell.

Oh yes. Sometimes, the writer says, pushing one book toward the reader, the same couple comes back for another adventure.

To help the new hero and heroine, right?

The writer presses her lips together and tilts her head back for a moment before answering. Sometimes, she says, and usually it's their children, but no, not always. Sometimes, she continues, her voice dropping, something bad happens and they have to regain their footing and rekindle their love. But, she's quick to assure the reader, it's always okay.

Happily ever after, the reader repeats on a whisper. She settles on the ground, close to the outside of the spread of books and peruses the covers. That doesn't look like England, she says, pointing to one illustration. Neither does that one, or that one. Oh, that one does, but what's the frilly thing around the hero's neck?

A ruff, the writer says, nudging the book closer to the reader. See how the shape is echoed in the heroine's farthingale? Quite lovely, isn't it?

The reader's eyes narrow for only a moment. That was a passive tense the writer used.

When needed, she answers, it isn't the end of the world. It's like the white crayon in the big box; one doesn't use it all the time, but when needed for the proper effect.

You can do that? The reader's voice has a prickle of doubt and a glimmer of hope.

Yes, the writer answers, I can. There's a whole bag of tricks in here, and it's fun to play with all of them. That, she says, is where the stories come from. Come and stay a while.

2008-05-05T13:25:00.004-04:00

Phrases you do not want to hear your handyman say:

That's a very aggressive snake.
He's rattling.
He's only moving this slow because it's not warm enough for him. (from me: that was slow?)

All of those come from yesterday's session with the handyman at my dad's house while getting big icky things out of the garage. Realizing that the snake on the ground, he (she?) of the rattle and fangs *was* the "metal hook" on the hinge of the paint can I had just carried in thirty seconds ago does things for ye olde blood pressure, let me tell you.

In the end, handyman and assistant handyman were able to trap snake and rehome him on a different part of the property, but "our" snake may have relatives in the basement. In either event, going in with nice bright lightbulbs next time.

What does this have to do with romance writing? Not much on the surface but every session of clearing out the house does uncover things. My father was an artist all of his adult life, so when I find some of his neatokeen art supplies (thank you, Dad, for buying the good stuff) it gives me a little creative boost. Similarly, every trip over there means new discoveries, sometimes about the man himself, sometimes about previous generations, parts of my own life I'd only seen from a child or teen's perspective, or the creative process in general. One could call it a form of archeaology. There's always something to mull over or dust off and use in a new and different way.

Which is what writers do anyway, so it sort of counts as a creative endeavor. So does speculating over what I might be "missing" by using this time to work on the house when I had three, count them, three novels in my bag, in the car, all strongly calling my name. What were the characters doing while I was away? Sure, they'll be considerate and sit on idle until I can get back but in a *good* book, characters are people to me, and when I'm not with them, I miss them. We'll be having some special time after dinner tonight. The snake is not invited.

2008-03-26T14:47:00.003-04:00

Reading (and writing) It Old School, part one

I came of age as a romance reader in the time of the big epic historicals that spanned years and continents and hero and heroine might even have to go through (at least) a spouse each before they were free to have their well earned HEA. I remember once thinking that I especially liked when the heroine had the couple's first child, because that meant we were in for the meat of the story with lots more still to come. It wasn't that uncommon to see the little sproglets grow through the book and have actual bearings on plot and character development. Neither were they automatically being set up for their own books.

These were the days of Small, Woodiwiss, Brandewyne, Busbee, McBain and Sherwood, to name only a few. Single titles rather than series were the norm, though there were exceptions. Jennifer Wilde's character, Marietta Danvers, was the heroine of three books, and not all with the same hero. Valerie Sherwood's Kells and Carolina swashed their buckle from colonial Virginia to the island of Tortuga through three big, thick books, and the same author's Imogene and VanRyker (not related to Kells and Carolina) had two and a half books, the other book and a half devoted to Imogene's presumed-dead-in-infancy daughter and her hero. Rosemary Rogers' Steve and Ginny had them all beat, with a whopping four books to their relationship before their daughter had a turn in the spotlight. Depending on how much one wants to quibble through a saga, Aola Vandergriff's Dan and Tamsen may well be the king and queen of the continuing stooooory, having lead or at least central roles in no less than six books of her Daughters series, following the tempestuous Tamsen and her sisters from late teens to old age and final days. Dan and Tamsen didn't have children, either.

Books of this era could often be termed heroine-centric, which suits me fine. A heroine might be beautiful, corageous and strong (none of those bad things) but by no means perfect in the Mary Sue sense. Shanna, from Kathleen Woodiwiss' novel of the same name, started out as a selfish spoiled brat, but there was room for change, and boy, did she. Plus she got Ruark. No bluebirds doing the hair of these gals, and I think it's high time they had a shot at the center stage once more. At least that's what I'm trying to do, and it's what comes most natural to me.

2008-03-12T12:04:00.004-04:00

Resurfacing

My all purpose question these days is, "can I put gesso on it?" Usually, the answer is "yes." Seeing as how I only have white gesso right now, this may mean that as soon as I get black gesso I may not be seen again for another long time. Hopefully, though, I'm back. Writing, digital art, regular art, reading about ballroom dancing (the joys of research) and what I promised myself I wouldn't do -- start brewing the idea soup for a new historical before I've finished one of the current projects. Sometimes these things happen, and I really truly am not going to start actual writing on the new project until I finish the first full draft of Endless Summer. Seeing as how the half draft is done, saved and I'm rapidly approaching the midpoint of the first full draft ::ducking floundersmack from Vicki, who will tell me I am working on my second draft and the half draft is the first draft:: that shouldn't be too long. So I am okay with starting the idea soup.

Currently stuck on Blake Lewis' "Meet Me At the End of the World," which may have some influence on the new project. Still on a pretty good run of reading historicals; not every one is a gem, but keeping a steady stream of reading helps keep a steady stream of writing.

Did not see American Idol last night, as our cable was wonky and unless is was "Only make sound every other syllable" night, I don't have that kind of patience. Watched the real life hero tinker with tv and cable box for two hours while attempting to talk to a human being at the cable place and was thankful I had a book with me.

Doing good, feeling good, would say looking good but not yet ready to attempt self portraiture with digicam. Ask me again after shampoo and makeup, but the joy of new fitted tshirts means I can get rid of the schlubby old sizes too big ones that procreate in my tshirt drawer.

Conference coming in a month, huzzah. Time to mingle with other romance writers and beg agents/editors to recognize my genius. Making mini cds with promo stuff on them, so if you hear a voice that sounds like mine saying Very Bad Words, you know I'm trying to print something new.

The point of it all is, I am here, really I am. (edited to add appropriate icon I'd forgotten I made)

2008-02-18T17:14:00.007-05:00

I'm in an arty phase at the moment, hence the icon base over yonder. Alexandra Vandernoot as Tessa from Highlander, and part of the inspiration for Trista, my heroine in my historical MS, The Wild Rover. Which I have neglected for the past six weeks while working feverishly on the time travel, Endless Summer. Which paid off, as I now have a nifty certificate boasting my being in the four top page counts of all who participated. Sense of accomplisment, I has one. Definetly gives me the impetus to keep on plugging and I'm close to having a workable first draft on that one. I may have to keep up some of the disciplines as a regular matter of course.

As for other matters, I need a really good historical romance read. This said by the woman who could build a small bungalow out of her TBR pile, and a small garage out of her keepers. You readers know what I mean, though. It has to be the right read at the right time. I think my Karen Ranney glom spoiled me. I did break down and rebuy the first of her Highland Lords series, so may delve into that, only it will mean rebuying the rest of the series, four more books, and I'm not in a series mood at the moment. Le sigh. May have to brave the attic and rummage for the other Ranneys I know are in there somewhere. Or I can reread her Tapestry. Yep, that desperate. Or devoted. Or something.

There's a certain sort of extra zing when the right art and the right reading come together to feul the writing. I like the zing. Need the zing. Getting the zing. Also some gummi bears.

2008-02-13T15:10:00.002-05:00

Nearly a month -- I know, I know, bad blogger. I wish I could say I've been furiously writing the entire time, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I have been making a concerted effort to write more, more tush in chair and fingers on keyboard, and by my page count, that is definetly paying off, but it's more relaxing than furious. I think all my furious is going into my heroines these days; outside of writing, I'll settle for a good nap. I'll save the furious part for everyday inconveniences. In short, me, doing good, family doing good, everyday urghs have ups and downs, but the story does go on.

Plus graphics. Since part of the everyday ugh includes an unusual sleep schedule, and the abode is still a postage stamp, I've found myself with some very artistic evenings. Granted, it's what one would term fan art, but y'know, that's what fires my creative brain, so that's what I'm going with for right now. Last week's project was icons -- don't know if there are enough message boards I go on to use half of the ones I've been making, but it's like calisthenics for the brain. How much can I get into such a little square? Time spent hunting down new techniques and tutorials is not time wasted, but time well spent, if it can get me to think "what if I tried this?" Sometimes it works out, sometimes not so good, but I have become far more familiar with Paint Shop Pro 6 than I thought I would. I do plan to upgrade in the near future, when I acquire the big bad pink monster, but for now, this is good.

With all that, yesterday, I hit on a first in that department. I actually printed out some of my projects for a scrapbook. Love scrapbooks. but face it, nobody wants to see my memories of the last year. (Though I do wonder what the good folks at Somerset Memories would think if I sent in a layout entitled "Three ER visitss in one week!" or "Another Alzheimer Moment." Umm, yeah, probably not.) I don't want to see my memories of last year. Trust me, I will not forget, and by the time I channel them into some poor unfortunate character in another century, they will be far more entertaining than traumatic.

For right now, this is my visual art. Taking the scenes and ideas and characters in my head and making them different, which, after all, is what I do with writing anyway. Only this time, with images. Which make the words want to come out and play.

2008-01-16T16:30:00.000-05:00

Boldly Going

Jumping off a cliff can be scary at first, but here I go. Beginning February 1st 2008, I will boldly go into a new frontier -- teaching my first online workshop.

In another age, a young woman perused the ads in an issue of Starlog magazine and wrote a letter to a fanzine editor, taking the first tentative step into what would become over a decade of playing in sandboxes rightly owned by Star Trek, Highlander and other "universes." She took beloved characters off on tangents, twisted time and space and yet knew something was missing. There were zines, sites, conventions, and the still small voice that finally urged her to take the plunge and dive into her real love, historical romance.

It was scary at first, venturing away from established places and characters, but her own ideas had begun to go further and further from what had attracted her in the first place, and she knew it was time to move on.

Along the way, she met many friends, talented writers all, who also wanted to make the same journey. They shared ideas, shared struggles, and cheered each other on. The young woman, more comfortale writing about butter churns or farthingales than transporters or spacesuits, knew she could use many of the techniques she first learned in her new venture. So came the idea of the workshop.

Really, if I can dress up in full Klingon gear in public, I can teach a class from the comfort of my office chair. Or maybe from under it.

2008-01-03T14:43:00.000-05:00

How can I ignore this face?

Or the stripety stripes, the creamy underbelly or the single cream toe on a front paw? I'm trying, though, as my current office assistant, Miss Skye, still needs some time to get used to her new environment. She's had a rough life for a young kitty and needs to figure out she's in a good place at last. She's been a survivor, but now she's learning to be a pet.

Survival, I've found, is a very interesting theme for a romance as well. (Nice segue, eh?) As my Christmas reading binge included Jenna Kernan's Winter Woman, a western from Harlequin Historicals, (okay, not a Christmas book , Christmas is not even in it, but there's snow on the cover, so I'm counting it) I found myself thinking of exactly why this book worked as well for me as it did when westerns aren't my usual choice.

First off, snow. They had me right there. I loves me the white stuff. Lived for two years in Vermont, would happily go back, but I don't think I could convince the DH to come, so any returns would have to be of the weekend vacation nature. My first fan novel back when I was fanficcing ST:TNG was set on a planet where it was all winter, all the time. I had a blast.

Then there was the fact that for most of the book, it was all h/h, all the time. Isolated on the frontier, battling dangerous environs, carnivorous critters and tempermental weather with a distinct minimum of secondary characters kept me riveted. I love a good adventure and a tight focus on the main h/h relationship, and this had it in bucketsful.

I really liked the structure of the wilderness adventure leading to civilization, and that the heroine did want to go back to a more structured world. Also liked the compromise that came with the HEA.

Also liked the inclusion of a faith element, done with exactly the right touch; worked very well for me. It was part of the characters, and struggles made sense.

At the (pardon the pun) heart of the matter was that the h/h, once they decided they really did love each other, went all in; they'll give up what' s most important to them because their beloved is even more important than that, and in the end, they get it all. Happy sigh.

Which got me thinking, what other settings can some of these elements be used for? I've enjoyed stories set in the wilds of Australia, Africa, Asia, various islands, even the colonial frontier (physically restraining myself from making notes on one of these until I have finished a current project.) Recommendations, anyone?

2007-12-12T16:15:00.000-05:00

Olivia, forever seventeen

My catsitting charge/officemate/cuddlebuddy, Olivia, went to Rainbow Bridge last night. She went as quietly as only she could, in her carrier on my lap in the vet's office, with her humom, Linda beside us.

It's been a hard year, and Olivia helped me get through a lot of the ick that year had to offer. She was herself right up until a couple of days before the end, and the decline on her last day was quick. We will miss her, but are forever grateful for the years we had together. Happy trails and fair winds, baby girl.

2007-12-06T12:41:00.000-05:00

Christmas Romances

Those who know me well know I am a fool for Christmas. I insist on putting up the first decorations immediately after Thanksgiving dinner is over, and one less holiday minded friend insists I put up her tree because it's fun to watch me get that into it. All this, I admit freely. I also admit that I can be a very cranky kitty when a reading slump hits. When the two collide, and they do, I can stomp about and fume about needing a good book now, but other times, happily, there are other cures.

One night last week, I found myself awake at an unacceptable hour and chanced upon a copy of the A Stockingful of Joy anthology. Faster than a stray spark can ignite a carpet, my Christmas romance monster awoke. Must. Have. More. Next, the all-Mary Balogh Under the Mistletoe anthology, and Harlequin Historicals' Christmas Wedding Belles (Christmas stories themed around the high seas? Be still my heart.) by Nicola Cornick, Margaret McPhee and Miranda Jarrett (oh how I would love, love, love more colonials by her. Please? One more Sparhawk? Surely there has to be at least one more? Or a Fairbourne? Pleasepleaseplease?) Signet's Regency Christmas Wishes (all right, I admit it, Christmas is the one time of year that I won't complain about an abundance of Regency settings, and I do grumble about Signet ceasing with the anthologies. They can't get us hooked and then cut us off. Perhaps expanding the time frame? I know there was at least one Victorian anthology, and how about Tudor, Medieval or boldly going into the early 20th century?) and Michelle Styles' novel, A Christmas Wedding Wager waiting their turn. Jo Beverley's Forbidden Magic is also calling me.

After that? I do have a sizeable TBR pile, and a bunch of new/current titles, but for me, the Christmas bug lasts clear to January sixth at the very least, so I may need to go digging in the attic for books from years past. I know I have the Christmas Revels anthology that contains Mary Jo Putney's classic "Black Beast of Belleterre," which I am positively hungry to reread in the very near future. I'm also in earnest search of Time Travel Christmas, which is around here somewhere, and it's probably cozying up to Flora Speer's Christmas Carol. I'll hunt them down, never fear.

Then while not exactly Christmas themed books themselves, there are wonderful Christmas scenes in many books by favorite authors. Bertrice Small's Skye O'Malley series has some memorable holiday scenes and how could I possibly not mention the vast array of inspirational romances that shine light on the spiritual side of the season? I even remember a few Hannukah, New Year and Kwanzaa stories over the years, so it really is the season. If I pace myself, I can make the Christmas books last until Valentine's Day, my next holiday fix.

What about the rest of you? Christmas or other holiday romances, good, bad, or meh? What titles have I missed or not mentioned here that are must reads? What do you like to see in such books? Come sit by the fire, grab a hot chocolate and dish.

2007-11-21T10:44:00.000-05:00

Happy day before turkey day.

I am very much looking forward to this holiday season. True, it's going to be bittersweet, since we will be missing two family members and a beloved friend who all passed this year, but it's time for some light and celebration. It's okay to feel relieved that the stress has decreased and look forward to some downtime where the only pressing decision is apple or pumpkin pie. Btw, the correct answer is "both."

For the last two days, I've settled in with one of my longhand notebooks and things flowed. I love when that happens. Of course today that means I need to transcribe that stuff, maybe beat my head on the desk a couple of times and see how everything jibes with the outline, but I think it's going to go fairly smoothly.

Had a lovely surprise today while checking to see if my books are availiable in Kindle format on Amazon (all three are; go here) -- a five star review for My Outcast Heart. Which is here. Oh yes. Whatever else happens today, the day is now unspoilably good. I have my cell phone off to ensure that. My mama didn't raise no fools. Would not mind a Kindle for myself either, but it needs to get in line behind a new laptop and more memory/graphics card for the husband's desktop.

Still, five stars, baby. Yeah. This day is good.

2007-11-13T16:38:00.000-05:00

Old school top fifty?

I have to admit I did consider voting in this year's top one hundred romances poll at All About Romance but didn't. The reason? I had a strong feeling most of my favorites are from another age, and that got me to thinking. What about ranking the old school books, the ones that newer readers to romance may not have had a chance to read? May not, for that matter, have heard of, in some cases.

This is not to say that I don't enjoy books published today, or that I do not fall like a slavering wildebeest on new historical romances by authors such as Diana Groe, Blythe Gifford, Lyn Randal, Pamela Clare, Tracy MacNish, and other new kids on the block. Far from it. But it's the old school stuff that got me started, and always has a strong tug on my creative subconscious. So in a burst of caffiene inspired enterprise, I began to list. I made myself stop at fifty, because I could easily have gone to a hundred. Books by the same author (and there are many authors who grab a good deal of the space; give me a good voice and I'm pretty much there for life) that are grouped together are related, as I read them as one big book. Not all favorite books by a particular author made the list, and again, these are not ranked.

The following isn't neccessarily in order, but was the first fifty old school books that came to mind, and came quickly indeed.

Skye O’Malley – Bertrice Small
Redeeming Love – Francine Rivers
The Kadin – Bertrice Small
Love Wild and Fair – Bertrice Small
Lovesong – Valerie Sherwood
Windsong – Valerie Sherwood
Nightsong – Valerie Sherwood
Wild Bells to the Wild Sky – Laurie McBain
A Love So Bold – Annelise Kamada
A Banner Red and Gold – Annelise Kamada
Daughters of the Southwind – Aola Vandergriff
The Pride of Lions – Marsha Canham
The Taming – Aleen Malcolm
Ride Out the Storm – Aleen Malcolm
Ann of Cambray – Mary Lide
Gifts of the Queen – Mary Lide
Lady of Fire – Anita Mills
Heart of the West – Penelope Williamson
Bold Breathless Love – Valerie Sherwood
Rash Reckless Love – Valerie Sherwood
Wild Willful Love – Valerie Sherwood
Rich Radiant Love – Valerie Sherwood
Upon a Moon Dark Moor – Rebecca Brandewyne
The King’s Brat – Constance Gluyas
My Lady Benbrook – Constance Gluyas
Lovely Lying Lips – Valerie Sherwood
Love Cherish Me – Rebecca Brandewyne
A Rose in Winter – Kathleen Woodiwiss
Lisbon – Valerie Sherwood
Ashes in the Wind – Kathleen Woodiwiss
The Wolf and the Dove – Kathleen Woodiwiss
The Flame and the Flower – Kathleen Woodiwiss
The Wind and the Sea – Marsha Canham
These Golden Pleasures – Valerie Sherwood
Rapture – Rosamund Royal
Adora – Bertrice Small
Moonstruck Madness – Laurie McBain
Rose of Rapture – Rebecca Brandewyne
Velvet Promise – Jude Deveraux
Highland Velvet – Jude Deveraux
Velvet Song – Jude Deveraux
Velvet Angel – Jude Deveraux
Born to Love – Valerie Sherwood
Beloved – Bertrice Small
This Towering Passion – Valerie Sherwood
Her Shining Splendor – Valerie Sherwood
The Bargain – Veronica Sattler
Angel in Scarlet – Jennifer Wilde
Winter Fire – Johanna Lindsey
Love Only Once – Johanna Lindsey

2007-11-09T13:38:00.000-05:00

Good review #2 from Dear Author!

Sail on over here and see what Jayne has to say about "Queen of the Ocean." Read the review and leave your own comment if you feel so moved.

Also visit my entry at Unusual Historicals this month for a look at some of the fashions of prior eras --some may be funny looking to us, but it was hot stuff for them. Add your own fashion foibles from any era, or defend any favorites others have pooh-poohed. There's also a gorgeous streaming banner of the Unusual Historicals writers' book covers that alone is worth a look.

Currently crawling out from the bug that swept our family, but devouring Monica McCarty's debut Highlander trilogy as I do, so I'm welcoming the reading time.

Also getting ready to celebrate another writer buddy's success. My friend and longtime critique partner, M.P. Barker's debut YA historical novel, A Difficult Boy, is availiable for preorder at Amazon.com. Woo and hoo! Really really good book, really really good author, and amazing friend. Can't wait to celebrate her success.

Okay, there's a bug

2007-10-29T10:11:00.000-04:00

Le sigh. If I needed any more reminders that this is a Monday, I have them. Didn't mean to arrange for *all* the Unusual Historicals blog entries to end up on my page, only mine. Working on fixing that now. Wish I could take credit for all the interesting things on the UH site, but alas, no, only my own.

Other than that, I'm spending today climbing out of a funk. I'm not depressed, I'm in a funk. That's a temporary thing and I can tell where it's coming from. I'm a people person, and spent the last week in the company of felines, coming home when the DH is snoozy, and there were days where the most human contact I'd get (aside from the Internet) was the clerk at the convenience store where I'd snag my Cherry Coke Zero. Plus there was the book that contained an element that would have caused me to pass on the book had I known, but I didn't, so there I go, happily reading until whambang. No thanks. UBS bag. Someone else will enjoy in the future.

Having the right input to defunk is crucial. Reading is high up there. I do know some romance novelists who can't read in genre while writing, but that's never been my problem. Okay, my tastes aren't in current vogue, but that doesn't bother me. There are still gems to be mined, and all things go in cycles. Picked up Shannon Drake's The Queen's Lady this morning, and things look promising so far. Good historical atmosphere, and while the real life historical figures are on stage, this does look like the h/h's story, and I love starting the book with a prologue from the middle (does that make sense?) and then going back to the beginning. Valerie Sherwood (whose books I sorely miss) did that a lot once upon a time, and I always found it a way to get sucked into the story in no time flat.

May indulge myself in a little Hugh Grant movie therapy after I mae a few baby steps in the work direction. Possibly Music and Lyrics, though a nibble of Love Actually never fails.

In the midst of decluttering two out of the three abodes , I'm gathering older copies of Romantic Times and Romance Writers Report (the RWA monthly magazine) which are always good for a shot of encouragement. This does, however, mean I'll have to organize them (oh darn -- heheh...I love organizing books and magazines) which serves as a rather useful timeline of how the genre has grown and where it might be headed next. I definetly plan on being along for the ride.

Trying something new

2007-10-27T20:14:00.000-04:00

The wee hours of the morning on the last day of a two-catsitting-gig week is probably not the best time to start fiddling around with new webthingies, but I'm giving this a shot, as my friend Kady (hi, Puds) told me about multiply.com. So far I've managed to upload pictures of the furry members of my family, including Vlad the bat, and somehow managed to post some of my Unusual Historicals blog entries here, but not the personal ones. Still working on that.

Not a lot of actual writing work in the last couple of weeks, as we've dealt with the passing of my Aunt Lola, my dad's sister, and that throws a new wrinkle into estate stuff. We're getting through it, though, and I'm looking forward to my RWA chapter's Book in Six Weeks program again this year. Also looking at some interesting promotional opportunities, so things are coming along.

Fall always seems to give me an extra burst of energy, which is especially helpful when organizing the office -- yikes, am I really writing on all these projects? Umm, yes, I am. Which is a very good thing. Writing is still the best job in the world.

2007-10-12T10:27:00.000-04:00

New/used laptop arrived last night; we're calling him Harvey (full name Harvey the Wonder Hamster, which was my dad's "code name" during his last year.) Harvey is a reconditioned senior gent of a laptop, a Dell Latitude, going all retro with his Windows Millenium. (extra points for anyone else who now has the Robbie Wiliams song stuck in their heads) Still trying to figure out how his internet card works and if there really is an A drive like the puter says there is, but it has Word, which is my one essential-essential, so I theoretically can take my act on the road when needed/wanted. Huzzah.

Which may have to happen, as real life has smacked me another one. Another elderly relative in hospital, sent from nursing home, so we're putting in a good deal of hospital time in the evenings until thing settle. Hopefully in the good direction.

2007-09-24T11:15:00.000-04:00

I would cross my fingers, but that would make typing difficult

Awe-Struck has asked for a full ms on Orphans in the Storm, my English Civil War historical romance. Getting that spiffed up to send in and hope for good news soon.

In the meantime, I'm still running off fumes from getting to see the So You Think You Can Dance tour last night. Beautiful, stunning, inspiring, fun and amazing are not enough words to describe the experience. I can honestly say that seeing Hok and Jaimie's "Chairman's Waltz" hummingbird and flower dance live is one of the most gorgeous things I have ever seen. If I can get that kind of passion and beauty and art on the page, I will be extremely satisfied.

2007-09-01T16:52:00.000-04:00

Totally Made My Day

Good reviews are equal to chocolate covered gummi bears in putting that sparkle in my eye, and to get one from Dear Author? It makes us writer types feel like this kitty here:

Review is here: http://dearauthor.com/wordpress/2007/08/31/review-its-never-too-late-by-anna-c-bowling/

Stop by to read, and if so moved, leave a comment to spread the love.

2007-08-28T17:50:00.000-04:00

Eep, it's been a while, hasn't it? Will post on the morrow, as family is talking behind me and my brain is pooped.

Suffice it to say, recovering from total system failure of puter that took many files with it. Le sigh.

2007-08-03T11:44:00.001-04:00

Let's go Dutch

I'm over at Unusual Historicals today, blathering about one of my niche interests, namely Dutch stuff in romance. Go see.

2007-07-23T16:01:00.000-04:00

Back in the saddle again.

Yesterday was several hours of sorting through random boxes of stuff at my Dad's house which is now my aunt's house. Stuff that needs doing. Today is the first real day of being back at the work of writing. Which is also stuff that needs doing. Writers write.

Last night, I sprawled on the bed with the notebook for one of my WIPs, reacquainting myself with the whos and whats and whens, and today was the same thing with a blank book for another project. It's an interesting sort of homecoming, going over stuff that's at once strange and familiar. There are the "I forgot about that" moments, the "hey, this is pretty good" moments and the "I can't believe I never patched *that* hole" moments. There are the moments when a turn of the page is the most perfect time machine ever created, and I'm swept from the present day into sixteenth century Amsterdam or seventeenth century England, the high seas, what have you.

The weather today has been cool (seventies) and off and on rainy -- good writing weather. True, all today's writing has been in the letter variety, but a letter to a writer friend I'll be collaborating with in the fall, so it counts. It feels natural to fall back into the rhythm of storytelling.

Also on the agenda is the big scary thing for us writer types. Submission. Completed manuscripts cannot be allowed to lounge around like an old college buddy who's been crashing on the couch for several years, leaving Cheeto crumbs between the cushions and never putting the lid back on the Diet Coke. Nope, stories, get out there and work for me; you have to finance the ones that are coming now that I have my mojo back.

2007-07-13T10:10:00.001-04:00

Remember when Queen Elizabeth II gave her speech about her "Annus Horribilus?" The year life went down the loo, to be blunt? Our family's was this year, and much of it centered in the past month.

During one week, my husband and I visited the ER three times for his severe asthma attacks, the first one nearly fatal. To say scary is understating things by a ton. He's home now, he's doing fine, on good meds, and most importantly now a nonsmoker.

At the same time, my father went into hospital (a different hospital, in a different state, actually) for a minor procedure regarding his dialysis access. He'd had that procedure before, but this one went differently. The surgeon wanted to take out this access and put the old kind back in, and that seemed to be one thing more than my dad's body could take. He fought several conditions very hard for the past few years, but there comes a time when the body can't fight anymore, and the spirit is ready to go. Two weeks ago, it was my dad's time.

It wasn't quick, or easy, which was in keeping with him, but he wasn't in pain when he passed, and I do believe that even though he wasn't conscious, he knew when family and friends came by to tell him we loved him and that it was okay to go if he wanted to. He did, peacefully and with no pain, on June 27th. On June 26th of last year, we'd had the bad news that the doctor gave him a year at most. Dad beat him by one day. Very much in character. We love him and we will miss him, but (spirituality warning here) we do beleive we'll see him again in Heaven, so he's not as much "gone" as "away."

From there, it's been all the things that happen after a death in the family, and of course it had to happen during the hot and humid season. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I had heat exhaustion more than once, likely one time climbing into heat stroke, but the weather seems to have shifted, so looks like that's not a problem for a while yet.

What the family has now is the finding of the new normal. We have his house to clean out and sell, need to find a new place for my Aunt Lola, who I am proud to call as much a friend as a relative, and get her closer to us. Rheuben and I are also looking at possibly finding a different apartment, so start saving those cardboard boxes, everyone. Looks like we're going to get a crash course in downsizing, moving more than one household and all the stuff that goes along with that.

I haven't felt much like blogging lately, though I have been doing lots and lots of reading, and getting the writing in where I can. I'm looking forward to getting back to a regular writing schedule, and hopefully that will include a return to more regular blogging.

In the meantime, hop over to www.myspace.com/indiasherwood and meet my alter ego. I'm letting her handle the time travel writing. She also apparently does more reading than I do, or at least is better at keeping track of it.

2007-06-07T15:18:00.001-04:00

Another month, another entry...

I really don't mean to be this quiet, but the current projects are eating me whole, I'm off to the Long Island Romance Writer's Luncheon this coming Friday (not tomorrow, the next week) and if anyone out there knows how to use playlists on an RCA Pearl mp3 player, I will lurve you forever and ever and think of you fondly in my dotage, which should be arriving any minute now.

I'm a little on the stompy side lately. DH finally got his week's vacation, and got smacked with exhaustion, gout and a cold. Yep, all at once. He's edging on feeling human, and it's near the end of the week. Hopefully he'll be up to the daytrip we've planned for Saturday.

Also stompy is the fact that I had to take a couple of days to refill the creative well. Those of you who know me well know that I want to work all the time, and taking time out to read, play Sims2, fiddle with playlists (see above) or watch TV, which do fill the creative well and are good and needed, annoy me because I want to be doing something. Doing something meaning output.

The past year was hectic and beyond with real life stuff and the last month or so, I finally, finally got back on track with production, ideas sprouting left and right, and it felt good. I mean goooood. Really good. So when I gave an extra big creativity push, feuled by stress of basically being the only family member not on vacation this week, of course things are going to hit a wall. It's temporary, and I'll be raring to go again in a day or so, grumbling about having to step away from the computer for things like food, hygiene, worship, family, the house being on fire, etc.

That said, five random things I haven't said in response to message board threads:

What on earth is wrong with romances having a happy ending? Isn't that like having cops in police procedurals?
Do I get stoned if I say I like my romance heroines young and beautiful?
Age differences in romance don't bother me. Really. Maybe it's because I have friends with successful marriages who have age differences, sometimes big ones, or maybe it's because it's historically plausible, or maybe it's because I don't, all right? ::passes out free Godivas::
Xnay with the egencyray for a while, please. I like it better when it isn't the only choice out there.
I want Marsha Canham back, too, but if she's busy, I'll step in. Really. Publishers, I have manuscripts.

2007-05-17T16:34:00.000-04:00

My Brain is Full

I came to an important conclusion sometime today. My brain is full. After pumping a critique partner's brain for specialized job information last night, then having critique group at which I had to talk about process, and carry that over to a day spent researching facts I need to know for a current project, I hit my limit.

For those who know me, when I tell you that all of the facts I had to find had numbers in them, you will know what those horrible sounds coming from my office were. Especially when I have to see if the numbers will play nice with each other and find a way to explain why things have to happen even if the numbers normally would not get along. Did I ever mention that in college, I failed the supereasy math class twice? Yes, I was trying. I do not have a number center in my brain. I traded it in for more story space. This is why I can memorize shipping routes in the 16th century, all of Henry VIII's wives, in order, with the reason he was no longer married to each one of them, and carry long lists of song lyrics in my head but cannot remember street names in the town where I live.

I've been listening to a new playlist while writing this week (because it took me this long to figure out how to access the subscription feature on Yahoo Jukebox) and only today have I been able to remind myself that the weird sound at the end of "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies is not the cat throwing up. The cat is very glad I have figured this out.

This morning when checking the weather forecast, my brain somehow read "65" as "85" so of course I dressed for near ninety degree weather, and soon regretted that. We are not going to go into why I have an old pajama top festooned with doggy faces where I catsit, but I was glad it was there this morning. Also very glad the puter I use does not have a webcam.

In an email exchange with my friend, Kara, I referenced the Trek convention many years ago when a friend asked me to hold her infant and watch her dealer table while she and her husband took a much needed break. No problems with watching the table or the baby, who snoozed the whole time, even though the table was next to a mockup of the Enterprise-D bridge, complete with red alert alarm that went off at irregular intervals. Every single time it went off, my first thought was "must get baby to nursery and respond." This, boys and girls, is when one knows it is time to get out of a fandom. Or at the very least take a break once in a while.

The afternoon I had is another one of those "hey, doofus, take a break" moments. While the research I did today was needed and I got the information I wanted, and that will help shape the story, the focus for me is always on the growing love relationship between the h/h. Time to crack open one of the nice big historicals in my growing TBR pile and read in the glow of my real life hero's puter screen as he plays solitaire. Even though I have a hard time stopping to refuel, it's better than bottoming out.