It had to happen. Here I am, the lone girl on an eight man crew, training every day with another eight man crew. What did you expect? That I wouldn’t date one of them? I basically had the pick of the litter, right? Is a girl not supposed to take advantage of a situation like that? Hey, I’m a goddess. I know what to do with a guy in shorts.

I dated the Stroke of my boat, the rower who sets the pace for the rest of the rowers. The Stroke is the only rower a coxswain can see face to face, the rower I communicate the most with. Plus, he was a six foot tall, turquoise-eyed, platinum blonde. I’m not blind.

Then there was the Stroke of the other boat. Light red hair, light green eyes, and six feet three inches of pure muscle. Player? He was a total player. A complete rake. Being a rake, he couldn’t resist stealing the other Strokes girl. It wasn’t me, it was the situation. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) It was Alpha Male against Alpha Male. Stroke versus Stroke.

I resisted him for as long as I could, I swear. At least 5 months. He was relentless, and obvious. I finally asked Stroke #1 what he thought about the situation and he told me I should go out with Stroke #2. Yeah, he was that confident. Idiot.

So I did. Rakes get to be rakes for a reason. Did I mention that Stroke #2 was relentless?

It got ugly. It got tense. The coach was not happy that his team was churning with Alpha Male snarls and bites. The other males watched from an interested distance, the way wolves do when Alpha status is being challenged. That fascinates me about male behavior; how they stand back and watch to see who’s going come out on top. Exactly like a pack of wolves.

That’s how I think back on it, an anthropological study into what happens when there are sixteen males and only one female. Being the Lone Female in a pack of Males is a lot to handle. I managed it. I’m a goddess, after all, but it was intense for awhile.

Being a writer, I use this experience as fodder for my writing. How men act. With each other. Around women. With each other about women. It went in as experience and comes out as character arc and scene development. In my Courtesan series, I’ve used this dynamic often. Funny how those scenes nearly write themselves. Ahem.

In the end, I stayed with Stroke #1. He and I left crew since the situation with Stroke #2 made it impossible to stay. But Stroke #2 prowled the edges of my life, even after Stroke #1 was gone. In fact, Stroke #2 hunted me down a month before my wedding and sniffed around. How often have you read a scene like that in a romance novel?

Do you enjoy reading scenes where the heroine is caught between two powerful men? Do you like scenes where men struggle for the right to claim one woman? Do you like it when you experience it in real life?

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Did someone dial 911?

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If you’ve ever watched Stargate: SG1, you know that the characters spend their days stepping through a stable worm-hole type thing and stepping out the other side onto another planet. Different colors, different temperatures, really weird creatures, Dom DeLuise – they’ve seen it all.

So this got me to thinking. If I could design a planet, what would I include? What would I exclude?

I’d definitely want oceans and mountains, because who wants to look at just flat everywhere? No deserts, because they’re too hot and dry. No marshes or bogs, because they’re too soggy. Lots of trees and meadows, and winged cute furry things with pretty singing voices. Some cute, furry, non-dangerous land animals would be nice, but I could do without bugs and bitey things.

Oh, and I’d want the ground to be purple, because I look good in purple. And maybe the oceans could be iridescent, and the fish would be white and black. That would look cool.

And I wouldn’t name my planet anything like Earth. Come on. Who thought that up? I would name my planet…Suzannicus. Or Enochopia. Or Avalon, maybe, if I was feeling more high-brow.

What particular thing would you like to see on your very own planet? What would you call your planet? And what would the weather be like?

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The subject of fairy tales came up the other day between me and artist/writer friend Ursula (we both like “Bluebeard”–go figure), and I told her of my favorite, an obscure little fairy tale written in the 19th century by a Scot named George MacDonald. It’s called “The Light Princess.” It’s actually quite amusing and romantic (go here if you want to read it). It’s about a princess who has no gravity–in either sense of the word. 

Now that I reread it, I realize it’s similar to my books in that it’s both romantic and a bit melodramatic while also poking fun occasionally. Huh. Never noticed that before.

Anyway, oddly enough it wasn’t the first time this month that fairy tales were mentioned. Earlier, a writer in my chapter had cited her favorite as “Cap of Rushes.” Ever heard of it? No, me either.

So tell me, what’s your favorite obscure fairy tale? Do you like romances based on fairy tales? And what is one fairy tale you’d just LOVE to see turned into a novel?

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I read an article recently that said your morning ritual says more about you than any other thing you do. That’s a wee bit far fetched, but the article got me to thinking . . . I mean, the way you start your day is bound to indicate a little about your personality.

A little.

For fun, I thought we’d see if this interesting theory works for our group here.

According to the article, if you shower, dress, and primp BEFORE you eat, then you’re an A — which is the kinda gal who finds order peaceful and enjoys time just with herself and her special peeps first thing in the morning.

Sort of an Oatmeal Traditionalist, if you will, all about comfort and snuggly mornings.

On the other hand, if you eat FIRST, dressed in your robe or jammies or what not, AND THEN prepare for work, then you’re a B — which is the kinda gal who is social and more group oriented.

We’ll call you the Eggs Over Easy because you’re willing to come to the table sans make-up and even shaving just to join the group and share your sparkling personality.

If you mix it up and SOMETIMES DO ONE OR THE OTHER, then you’re a C — which is the kind gal who likes to go with the flow and is comfortable in either a group or with just you and your special peeps.

We’ll call you all the Granola Greats because you’re spontaneous and willing to try different things.

I find that I’m an Eggs Over Easy gal. I get up, toss on my robe, and fix breakfast for whoever is staying in my house. I’m no Betty Crocker, but I love having the morning meal with my family, watching the morning news together and chatting about our coming day. It’s the highlight of my entire day. Personality wise, I guess that does sorta sums me up — I’m group oriented.

So, what was your morning ritual this morning? Is it the norm? Are you an Oatmeal Traditionalist? An Eggs Over Easy gal? Or a Granola Great sorta free spirit?

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Hey all - I’m in London this week!  I’m here for the London Book Fair and to meet with global representatives of my UK publisher.  Today I signed 1000 books for a distributor (in less than 2 hours!) and tonight was a big dinner for the global reps. 

Tomorrow is a full day with stock signings and the Book Fair and tomorrow night is the Crime Party - for all my publisher’s crime writers.  I’m hoping to get some special handcuff earrings for the occasion.  (Just for kicks, you understand.)

While I’m shopping, I must pick up something for youngest child.  When asked what she wanted, she first replied, “A prince - either Harry or William will do.”  The crown jewels was her second choice and “something cool” was her third.  I have been instructed not to pick up “just anything” but instead I’m to watch the “cool kids” and see what they are wearing.

LIke I’d know a cool kid from a hole in the head.  I’ll find something, and hopefully she’ll like it!

Which brings me to my question - when you go away, do you bring home souvenirs or gifts?  What kind  of things have you brought home for others?  For yourself?  What’s the worst souvenir you’ve ever received?  The best?

From London, Ta ta for now! 

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I know rowing looks relaxing. Done right, the execution flawless, it’s almost like watching swans gliding over a lake. But it’s the most grueling sport I’ve ever seen. Every muscle in the body, from the neck to the feet, is at work at top speed; it’s cardio at its most relentless. At the end of a 2000 meter race, at least one rower hangs his head over the side of the boat and throws up. At least one.

In order to prepare for this sport, they train 6 days a week. They lift weights. They run stairs. They run long distance. Because I went to USC, the stairs my crew ran were the LA Coliseum stairs. Those are some mighty stairs. As their coxswain, it would have been good form, a show of team solidarity, if I’d run the stairs with them. I did. Once. And by once, I mean one flight. Gasping, I decided then and there that I’d be more useful timing them. Everything in crew is timed, everything measured. So, I stood (or sat) at the bottom of the stairs and shouted encouragement (or derision, as needed). The guys needled me, teasing me about not running.

Sticks and stones…

They weren’t too hard on me because, hey, it was an eight man crew training with two other eight man crews. And I was the only girl. Six days a week and the only girl in sight. But that’s another story.

What work-out won’t you do? What form of exercise feels just right? Have you ever run stairs?

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That’s right. I was on a team in college. You didn’t think I had it in me, did you? Here’s how it happened.

I went to a party in the guys’ dorm. Now, now, let’s keep it clean, shall we? Anyway, I was at this party and this guy starts talking to me and it turns out that he’s on the freshman crew. Because I’m on the smallish side (my nickname as a kid was alternately Squirt or Shorty), he thought I’d make a good coxswain.

Will you please get your minds out of the gutter, ladies?

Naturally, I’m full of questions, the first of which is to ask what a coxswain is. (Pronounced coc-sun.) He explains that it’s the person who sits in the stern (that’s the back) of those long, skinny boats with all the oars. The coxswain is in charge of the boat, makes all the decisions, tells the rowers what to do, and steers. Being in charge of eight, twenty year old men? I can do that.

I get the job. It’s not exactly a walk in the park, or a row on the lake, for that matter. First of all, being the lone woman in charge of testosterone-filled jocks is, to put it mildly, a challenge. The way a crew works is that, because the shell (the boat) is so long and so fragile, because the oars are so long and so deadly, because no one can see anything but the coxswain, the coxswain is in complete control of everything. The rowers aren’t even allowed to touch the boat to take it out of the boathouse without the coxswain’s command. That particular command is, “Hands on.”

Gutter, ladies, gutter.

They lay their hands on and then it’s, “Ready, up” and up and up it goes, way up over their heads. Yeah.

And on and on until the boat is in the water, which is quite a task since this boat is not light and is very unwieldy. Rowers have to be very strong, their bodies covered in muscle, lots of muscle. You get the idea, right? Ahem.

The coxswain’s job is to tell the rowers how to row, to tell the rowers where they are in comparison to everyone else in the race, to time the strokes with a special stopwatch tied to her leg, and to steer. What all this means is that the coxswain is explaining, shouting, exhorting throughout the 2000 meter race.

I was so right for that job.

The seats are numbered, which means the rowers are numbered. The guy in the bow is One, the guy in the next seat is Two, the both of them together are the Bow Pair. The seat closest to the coxswain, facing her, is seat Eight. His oar is to port and he is called The Stroke.

Okay, I give up on trying to keep this clean and wholesome.

From the vantage point of the coxswain, the only head I should see is the Stroke’s. If I can see Six’s face, we’re dipping. Six gets yelled at from me for that. I told you I was right for this job.

The oars all have to enter at the exact same moment, at the exact same angle of entry. This is called The Catch.

All the oars have to leave the water at the exact same instant. This is called The Release. In and out, in perfect rhythm, based on my commands.

I can hear you laughing. I feel so dirty all of a sudden.

There are weight limits for the entire boat, which means there are weigh-ins at the race. The crew gets weighed in order, from bow to coxswain, and because we’re dealing with twenty year old jocks…well, one story sticks out in my mind. The guys, all eight of them, stepped out of their shorts and t-shirts and stood there in their jock straps to get weighed. Ha ha. Very funny.

I kept my clothes on. I told you this was a clean story.

I have so many stories about my life as a coxswain. I’ll post another tomorrow, but in the meantime, is there something you’ve done that was out of your comfort zone, that once you did it, you realized that you were better and stronger than you thought you were?

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Goddess Margaret mentioned in Suzanne Enoch’s Friday blog that she thought David Boreanaz was hot and could we have him as a FROS. I did a little research (oh, the work I do for tgb!) and by gosh, she was right — he is very FROS worthy!

Without further ado, here’s David Boreanaz from the television series, BONES:

And just in case you can’t quite get your early morning peepers to focus, here’s another:

Thank you, Margaret!

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In honor of Susan K’s wedding (it IS today, right?), I figured we could talk about fun weddings. I don’t know about you, but one of my favorite wedding scenes ever in a movie is the one in Love Actually, where the groom’s best friend Mark plants musicians throughout the audience to play “All You Need Is Love” as a surprise. I loved it! It was so original.

About the only original thing I did for MY wedding was to have poetry read instead of music. It was very lovely, but hardly as creative as in the movies.

We had a fun reception, too, although I do wish we’d had a wedding dance like the one below (yes, I had to have an excuse to embed this video–it cracks me up every time!!!):

How’s that for the coolest wedding dance ever?? Thanks, Caren Helms Crane, for sending it to me!

So what about you? Was your wedding a masterpiece of creativity or did you go with the traditional as we did (mostly, anyway)? What’s the most original thing you’ve ever seen in a wedding, either an actual wedding or a TV/movie wedding? What’s just one thing you’d LOVE to see in a book’s wedding scene?

And many happy returns to Susan K and her soon-to-be husband!!

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