I love a good quote. My entire office is covered with them. Some are Life Instructions like “Live Loud.” I have that one on the door of my office so that I can remember to challenge myself while I’m writing.

On the inside of my moleskin notebook I have a quote from George Carlin that says, “Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things.” That’s to remind me not to get too wrapped up in unimportant things — like worrying about things I can’t control.

My favorite quotes right now (and they change daily) are:

“If you think you’re right, if you think you’re wrong, you’re probably right.” — Henry Ford

“I’m an excellent housekeeper. Every time I get a divorce, I keep the house!” — Zsa Zsa Gabor

“Beware of the young doctor and the old barber.” — Benjamen Franklin

“I intend to live forever. So far, so good.” — Steven Wright

“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.” — Maya Angelou

“Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant? I’m halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh man, I may be eating a slow learner!” — Lyndon B Johnson

“An invasion of armies can be resisted, but not an idea whose time has come.” — Victor Hugo

What quotes mean a lot to you? Do you like inspirational or funny or both? And do you print them up and hang them over your desk, too?

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I’m a big fan of the nonfiction cable TV channels – Animal Planet, The History Channel, National Geographic, The Science Channel, TruTV, and most especially, The Discovery Channel. I’m certain that some of the things I’ve learned there could one day save my life. And so in the interest of helping my fellow goddesses, I will share them with you:

1) From Stormchasers – Being in the center of an F-3 tornado is very windy. Many large objects become airborne, and some of these things could possibly kill you.

2) From Shark Week – Sharks live in the ocean, except for the Bull sharks that swim upstream in creeks on the East Coast where they could possibly kill you.

3) From The Deadliest Catch – Catching crabs in the Bering Sea between November and February is very cold and those men are insane. Oh, and the weather conditions could possibly kill you.

4) From Man vs. Wild – If caught in the desert with no food or water, you can squeeze water out of a cactus, and you can eat scorpions raw. Or they could possibly kill you.

5) From Mythbusters – If you’re in an elevator and the cables break and it falls 20 stories, jumping up in the air just before impact will not save your life. If you’re working on the Golden Gate Bridge and you fall off, dropping your hammer in first will not break the plane of water enough to save your life. Goldfish can be taught to swim through a tube – but a goldfish can’t save your life. (Unless it swims between you and a Bull shark.)

Do you enjoy watching any of the “learning” channels? What facts have you learned that you might not otherwise have known? Have any of them saved your life? What’s your favorite nonfiction show?

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Cel-e-brate good times, come on! I heard that 1980’s Kool & The Gang song on the radio the other day, just when I was thinking that “Celebrating” might make a good topic for today’s blog. So I took it as a sign from Zeus.

Actually, the idea of my blogging about “Celebrating” is all Handmaiden Kim’s fault. Last week on The Forum, she asked those of us goddesses with books coming out soon how we celebrate a book release – by sighing with relief, toasting with a libation, or biting our nails. The answer for me is… all three.

Today is the official on-sale day for my Regency historical romance, TO PLEASURE A LADY. So naturally I’m excited and nervous – and relieved as heck that it’s finally out after I devoted a good chunk of my life giving birth to that book (about the same gestation period as a human baby.) Whatever happens, my kid is out in the world now and out of my hands.

But I also have another big reason to celebrate since today is my wedding anniversary. (I ain’t saying how many years my dh and I have been married, ’cause that would make me feel older than I am when I’m really a spring chicken at heart.)

It’s not too often that I have two big things to celebrate at once. And luckily for me, one won’t take away from the other as with some of my family members. For example, my late dad’s birthday was two days before Christmas, so he frequently got shortchanged with both. And my sis-in-law’s son was born on Mother’s Day, so his birthday often overshadows that holiday for her. My own November birthday sometimes falls on election day when you can’t buy alcohol until after the polls close – or as in Utah, you can’t buy any alcohol at all, even if it’s just champagne. And my twin stepdaughters were born on 9/11, of all days. Yikes!

For our wedding anniversary tonight, we’re headed to a romantic dinner at one of the poshest ski resorts in the country. This particular restaurant holds great sentimental meaning for us, since for years we always ate there whenever we came out to Utah to ski. Although I confess, it was also the scene of one of the biggest fights my dh and I ever had. Which maybe is why I have fond memories of the place – because it’s living proof that if we’ve made it this far in our marriage, it bodes well for our future. I’m relieved about that, too!

And speaking of celebrations… The Goddess Blogs will be one year old on Valentine’s Day, and we’re planning a big bash at Mount Oly that week! So stay tuned for future announcements.

But back to our regularly scheduled program and Nicole’s chance to pimp her new book, as Goddess Julia says.

What events – big or small – do you regularly celebrate? Do you have special celebrations you’ll always remember? Ones you’d just as soon forget? Do you have to share your special days with others? And will you help me celebrate the birth of my new baby, TO PLEASURE A LADY?

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Especially if you are breaking up with a girl friend.

Have you ever had to do it? Wanted to do it? Been broken up with? About two years ago, I had to break up with a friend. It was a deal where we’d met through someone else and she asked me to lunch. I went. We had a good time, but we didn’t really have much in common. She was an empty-nester. I only dreamed of being one. She had never worked outside the home. I had never worked in the home until recently. She liked to cook and as you all know, I do not.

Still, I enjoyed her company. But I figured she felt the lack of chemistry and I did not expect her to call again so soon. She wanted another lunch. I said I was busy. She said, if not Monday, what about Tuesday? Wednesday? Thursday? Friday? I’m open—you tell me! Out of guilt, I went again. And again, and so many times that she was becoming a nuisance. I cringed when I saw her number on the caller id.

Finally, I did it. Over lunch, I told her that it just wasn’t working out for me. I explained that it wasn’t her, it was me, that she was great and deserved a woman who would be a better friend to her than me. I didn’t do it on a post-it note like Berger did with Carrie in Sex and the City. I didn’t pick a fight like a boyfriend did with me a long time ago. I did it as adult as I knew how to do.

She took it well, but a few months later, I happened to run into her when I was out without make-up, my hair a mess, and wearing my writers uniform: Flip-flops, shorts, and an irreverent T-shirt. She was with a new friend—a beautiful petite woman wearing a pair of really cool shoes. We said the awkward hellos, how is…what is your daughter’s name again, kind of thing, and went on. But when I looked back before getting in my car, they were both looking at me and talking.

She was telling her new girlfriend that I broke up with her, and her new girlfriend was telling her that I was no great loss, and did I always look like that? Which she probably punctuated with a shudder.

Just so you know, I have lots of friends and I am not in the habit of dumping them. But this was one time I did not click with a woman who thought she clicked with me.

Have you ever broken up with a friend? What’s the worst break-up you’ve ever done to a man or a friend? What’s the worst break-up ever done to you? Have you ever run into an ex looking fabulous?

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Next week is it — the Superbowl. The day when the best football team in the US of A, the most skilled quarterback, the most ferocious starting line, the most brilliant coach and, more importantly, the day we get to eat all of the snacks we might want.

Yes, that’s right, we get chips, chicken wings, nachos, nuts, cheese and crackers, those cute little barbequed sausages, and that old American standard — pigs in a blanket.

So who are you rooting for? In case you haven’t yet decided, I thought I’d give you a sneak peak at the lineup:

Here’s Eli Manning for the Giants:

And here’s Tom Brady for the Patriots:

Sorry I couldn’t find a sexier picture of Manning, but Brady’s been around a bit longer and has more endorsement deals and thus, more pics of him sporting fashion. Still, it does give you a bit of an idea, just in case you haven’t picked a team to root for.

Meanwhile, enjoy your FROS, m’dears! And I hope you’re getting excited about next week’s snacks– I mean, next week’s GAME. Yes, that’s right. The GAME. WOOHOOO! Go ___(insert your team name here)__!!!!!!!

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I have a book due on May 15th. I know the basic plotline, but my editor, agent, and I just finished brainstorming some twists and turns to make this what I hope is going to be a really cool story. Actually, it was more like my editor saying “push harder! Make sure you’re clear what the hero needs to accomplish!” and my agent saying “you always get it right. Why do you always freak out? Relax, Suzie.” Like that’s going to happen.

In some ways this is both my favorite and most-hated point of a book; I have high HOPES that it’s just going to be spectacular, the best work I’ve done to date. I DREAD sitting down and putting pencil to paper – or fingertips to keyboard – because then the nebulous ideas and snatches of conversation and visions of carriages driving through Hyde Park become concrete. They have to make sense and forward the story and make characters compelling and interesting and there has to be chemistry and excitement and humor and romance. (I couldn’t forget that last one – it is a romance, after all.)

Luckily, the next few days are what I think of as perfect writing weather here in Southern California. It’s raining, and it’s cold enough for me to turn on – I mean light – a fire in the fireplace. I have a cold case of diet Dr Pepper in the refrigerator, and my iPod is poised to begin playing the score to Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, my favorite writing music of the moment. I have my lucky green mechanical pencil with a tube of extra leads, and a white, college-ruled binder with today’s date already written in the top left-hand corner. Now all I have to do is begin writing.

At least I don’t turn in a circle and spit before I sit down to write, though it may come to that. Do you have a certain ritual, certain weather or items that you prefer having to hand before you begin a task? What combination of things makes you feel the most creative, or the most relaxed?

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I love me some art. Yes, I do. Unfortunately, I have no clue what constitutes good art and how it is created. I lack that “artist’s eye” thing, which is why I’ll never be sitting on a bench in Paris sipping wine and painting watercolors. (Do you actually paint watercolors or do you color them? Or even water them? No clue—see the above re artistic ignorance.)

My artist friend Ursula Vernon knows exactly what is good and what is sucky. “That’s pure crap,” she will say to me on occasion about some hapless work by an amateur, to which I usually reply, “Um, er, right, sure, pure crap.” Like I would know. I pretty much take her word for it if it’s something I don’t care about one way or the other.

But my ignorance doesn’t stop me from enjoying art. I love the pre-Raphaelites and the Old Masters. I even like some less plebian artists—Hieronymus Bosch, for example, and Escher (it’s the math minor in me). Of course, Ursula’s art is brilliant (no bias there, nope). I think Dali is dreamy. And his art is cool, too (ba-dum-bum). That’s him on the right—yum! And I know what I hate: most abstract art, still lifes and landscapes, anything by Thomas Kinkade, and Picasso. Really can’t stand Picasso.

What about you? Are you into art? Do you paint? Do you know a good painting from a bad one? Do you buy much art or do you decorate with posters and quilts? And what artists do you like?

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Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about romantic fantasies. Probably because my new editor wants to know what stories I have in the pipeline, so I’ve recently had to plot my next three books in detail – which, for me, first means determining what romantic fantasies I want to write about.

When I say “fantasy,” I’m not talking about the myriad improbabilities we find in many romance novels, including mine. The stuff that requires us to suspend disbelief while reading. Let’s face it, it’s so unlikely that historical heroines have long flowing hair that never needs washing, and that they never suffer such mundane troubles as PMS or toothaches or require bathroom breaks.

In contemporaries, the heroine usually looks beautiful and the hero seems sexy (at least to each other) no matter the circumstances, even if they’ve just crawled out of a sewer. And fictional characters rarely worry about world issues such as war or poverty or personal ones such as bad breath or serious illness. Unlike in real life, where not all relationships have happy endings, and not everyone gets their just rewards.

No, when I say “fantasy,” I’m talking about the core fantasies we find between the pages of a romance novel. Of course, the basic premise of a romance is that love conquers all; that it triumphs over all obstacles and divisions. But beyond that, at the heart of all my favorite romance novels is a core romantic theme. A primal, gut-deep fantasy that resonates with me as a woman. That shows me a view of life as I dream it could be.

Some of the themes I most love to read and write about? Taming of the savage male, Redeeming a rake, Cinderella, Beauty & the Beast, Banding together with a hunky hero to outwit a killer…. those get me every time.

My new Courtship Wars trilogy is about three very eligible guys who are attracted to three sisters, not because of superficial reasons such as their beauty or breeding, but because these women are very different from the norm. I’d have to say that the basic romantic fantasy in all three books is that a wonderful man will see past your flaws to your own special qualities and love you for yourself – and want your love for himself. That’s the kind of fantasy that makes me melt.

Why is it that we romance readers buy into these fantasies? I mean, really. How many wealthy dukes and earls could Regency England possibly have? What’s the likelihood that a gorgeous Prince Charming is going to appear and sweep us off our feet? Or if he does, that he’s going to be someone worth knowing and not just some pretty-boy arrogant jerk? When, actually, is Brad or Hugh or Gerard going to take one look at us and decide he wants to spend the rest of his life with us?

The reality is, probably never. But that one chance in a billion could explain the appeal of the romance novel. It’s the lovely happy-ever-after fantasy that makes us smile and sigh and believe that all’s right in our world, at least for a brief moment.

So how would you explain the wide appeal of romance novels? What romantic fantasies do you love to read about? To write about? How do you justify you tastes to skeptics? And have you ever seen your fantasies play out in real life?

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I was in the grocery store yesterday and the deli had fried chicken sizzling.  And I smiled, not because I ate any of the fried chicken (don’t I wish!), but because whenever I smell fried chicken, I think of my MaMaw Rose.   She always seemed to be in the kitchen and she knew I loved my fried chicken.  Every time I’d come to visit, she’d fry me up a panful.  Her biscuits were killer, too.  This makes me smile. 

Whenever I hear a Beatles song, I remember my oldest at one and half, “dancing” to Can’t Buy Me Love.  It’s one of my most darling memories.

Whenever I see a photo of the US Capitol at night, I remember the night my husband proposed.  It was my nineteeth birthday and I wore the lacy white dress I’d worn to my high school graduation the year before.  It was still hot on a July evening, and he’d walked me up the stairs to the Senate side.  We’d both grown up in the MD burbs of DC and we’d done much of our dating in the museums downtown.  We drove by the Capitol pretty often, so I think DH picked that spot on purpose, so we’d have something sweet to remember.

Whenever I taste granola, I remember how my mom tried to make us eat wheat germ in the 70’s.  Ew.  Not one of my better memories, LOL.  She even put it in chocolate milkshakes.  But her intentions were good!  When I smell rye bread, I always remember the chemistry lab in college where we distilled caraway seeds into carvone and I smelled like rye bread for DAYS.  I have not eaten rye bread since, and that was 25 years ago.  Some sensory memories are locked in for good! (or bad as it were).

What stimulation of your senses evokes a memory, good or bad?  Have you or anyone else ever set up a major event so that a smell or a taste would make you remember?

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Suzanne’s birthday blog last week made me think about those few moments in time when people share a common memory. For example, whenever my grandparents and their brothers and sisters get together, they inevitably talk about ‘the day Kennedy was shot.’

You guys know i love quizzes, so here we go!

Where were you when you first heard about. . . (and if you don’t remember or weren’t on this planet yet, feel free to say so!)

1. the space Shuttle, Challenger, blew up?

2. Princess Diana died?

3. 9/11?

And (for a little more personal insight) do you remember:

4. when you lost your first tooth?

5. when you met that special someone?

6. when you drove for the very first time?

7. when you picked up your copy of my new book TO CATCH A HIGHLANDER? Oh wait. TO CATCH A HIGHLANDER comes out TODAY, so I guess we all know when you did that! Silly me!

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