Hello Goddesses! It’s little old me on the Goddess Blogs! Can you believe it? I am just thrilled to pieces to be here especially during the grandest ball of them all – the RWA National Conference. This is my third annual conference and I still feel like Cinderella every time I step into the lobby of the conference hotel and see all of these fabulous princesses of romance – the authors who keep us all turning the pages and sighing for more. This has to be the only place in the world where you can run into Nora Roberts in the elevator or Janet Evanovich in a hallway or our truly glorious goddesses in the bar. (No they aren’t always there. Sometimes they’re chasing hot guys waving their cell phones saying they need a photo for something called FROS. I didn’t know a fireman in full gear could run that fast!)

When I told my wonderful critique partner that I was lucky enough to write this blog post she asked pointedly (she always asks pointedly, trust me, she is a force of nature.) “What are you supposed to write about?”

“Well, you know, the usual – 1) why I am going, 2) what I expect, 3) what is happening . . . Those sorts of things.”

To which she replied, “That’s easy. Answer to Question #1) To have an editor fall at your feet with a 25 book contract. Answer to Question #2: To have the chef at the Dolphin serve you a six layer cake of alternating chocolate heaven and fudge delight that has no calories when you finish that last bite. And Answer to Question #3: You’ll be taking classes that will inspire you so much that during the week you will have completed a 400 page best-sel– Wait! Did you start by saying you write fiction?”

Sigh. As you can see she never allows me to get too full of myself.

Why DO I attend the annual conference? What is it really like? My brothers call it my Romance Writing Powwow. That sounds about right. After all, in the Creek culture of my family, grandmother storytellers are venerated as the keepers of memory, of hope, of dreams. Sounds like a romance writer to me.

Another thing about the conference is that it’s as loud as a powwow. A couple of thousand romance writers talking ninety to nothing about well, ROMANCE! How to write it. How to put more of everything in it. How to make it irresistible to readers. You name it and there is a class on it. Where else can you attend a class like Love Scenes 101 or Understanding the Male Mind or called Body Disposal? (I guess the body disposal is for when you just can’t understand the male mind.)

You remember I said I still feel like Cinderella? The conference is where I go to recharge my batteries so I can keep on searching for that glass slipper. The one that fits just right. I have an agent to help me look now. Trust me, no marriage-minded mama can beat my agent when it comes to trying to find the right “Prints Charming” to buy my books.

Writing romance is one of the few businesses where the sense of sisterhood – of we’re all in this together – is so overwhelming and comforting. Nowhere do you feel that sense of sisterhood more than at this conference. No ugly stepsisters here. Here everybody dances and if you don’t know the steps there’s always somebody here to teach you.

So when guests come into the hotel and see this gathering of chattering women all talking at once about cover models, black moments, GMC and POV, they may think they’ve landed at a convention of female car salesmen. Guess again. This is the annual powwow of the Romance Nation and we have some of the greatest storytellers in the world.

And one day, I hope to become one of them.

Are there any great storytellers in your family? Have you ever learned a skill or an art from a master? Was it one-on-one or was it in a conference-like atmosphere where you had access to some of the best artists in your chosen craft and got to learn from them and enjoy their company? And most important, have you ever snapped a quick photo of a hot guy just because he was hot?

P.S. We have two prizes today to be distributed to two separate posters on today’s blog! 1) an Advanced Reading Copy of Claudia Dain’s Daring A Duke and 2) an Advanced Reading Copy for Madeline Hunter’s Sinful in Satin!

And heeeeere’s Kathy!

I’m a fat chick. I long ago came to terms with it. When I hit 30, I slowed down and so did my metabolism.

Recently I read a non-goddess author’s book and noticed something. Something that had never before occurred to me. This author’s heroines were always described as delicate, tiny females, and paired with huge linebacker type men, usually with longish hair. This got me to thinking; did the author project onto her characters her own body type or her wished-for body type?

And of course this led me to think about all of the characters I’ve read in my favorite books.

It’s human nature to put a little of ourselves into the books we read or write, whether we do it consciously or not. Still, I know we will never get a story about an ordinary man who is balding and paunchy or a woman who has more than just curves to her, but I must admit that I do like a story in which the lady in question is more “fleshed out” than a twig. That makes for a nice connecting moment for me. For my enjoyment, the man doesn’t have to be larger than life either, or have six pack muscles and broad shoulders. I like some reality to my heroes and heroines.

Body descriptions are never described on the back cover, so I’ve never purchased — or not purchased — a book because of this. However, if the author is constantly describing the heroine’s delicate hands and other too-obvious reminders of the hero’s and heroine’s sizes, then it overshadows what I think are the more interesting character traits and I get taken out of the story.

Does a tiny, waifish heroine turn you off of a book? Have you read books where the physical descriptions of the hero and heroine took you out of a book? What size(s) are your favorite heroines? Heroes?

P.S. Today we have a prize for two separate posters … you can win either an Advanced Reading Copy of Sabrina Jeffries’ September 21st release, A HELLION IN HER BED, or a signed copy of Lori Handeland’s SHAKESPEARE UNDEAD and a fancy Shakespeare LOVE coffee mug! WOOT!

Among these is our very own Sheridan. Today, Sheridan is sharing a family treasure with us. In addition to this great, fascinating tale of real life love, thegoddessblogs will give an Advanced Reading Copy of goddess Karen Hawkins’s August 31st release, the prequel to the MacLean Curse Series, MUCH ADO ABOUT MARRIAGE, to one randomly chosen poster. Yes, this could be YOU!

So post today and post often!

And now, without further ado, heeeere’s Sheridan:

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved romantic stories and fairy tales. I immerse myself into a book and pour through every page just to get to the “happily ever after,” as I think we all do. Some have found their own true love and some of us keep searching, but we can all appreciate a wonderful, heartwarming story – especially if it is a true one.

This particular story began on October 30, 1923 at the annual Halloween carnival held at the Methodist Church. Sixteen year old Florence Powars and a few friends dressed up as gypsies for the fortune telling tent. Little did she know that a tall, blond athlete named Fred Stancliff would walk up to her table and change her life forever.

The two courted for five years as Fred insisted that Florence take advantage of the opportunity to get her college education, for he valued education above almost everything else.

Encouraged by Fred, Florence enrolled in the same college he was attending where she majored in Fred Stancliff and minored in English Literature. Not long after her graduation, they were married and, for the most part, lived happily ever after.

Growing up, I heard this tale many times. It was always accompanied by a smile and a special look between them. Fred and Florence had a very special love. They were also my grandparents.

A few years ago, I was helping my father go through his storage rooms and I came across a couple of boxes marked “letters.” At first, I wasn’t sure what I had, but I figured I could use some of the old letters for collages or photos or something crafty. But it turned out these yellowed pages were not just any letters, but a large collection of letters my grandparents had written while they were courting. Also in the boxes were my grandmother’s journal and some of her scrapbooks.

What unfolds in these pages is a very sweet love story; one that lasted until Fred’s death in 1995 after 68 years of marriage. Things were not always perfect and there were a number of little disagreements along the way (although every good story needs some drama, don’t you think?), but there were also celebrations and a growing affection that held strong through good times and bad.

The other bonus I received from finding those boxes is that it has turned into a family project. My father has undertaken to fill in a few blanks here and there and he has a number of little “asides” to share. One of my favorites being about that fateful Halloween carnival where my grandparents met.

My father told me that my grandmother admitted she’d volunteered to be at the front table that night. Why? Because she knew all of the girls coming into the Gypsy tent would head to the back tables for their fortunes (perhaps to gain some privacy). Meanwhile, the boys tended to go toward the first table they saw – the front one.

My grandmother was always was a cheeky one!

Have you ever chanced upon a family treasure? What was it and how did you find it? Did it change your relationship or viewpoint of anyone in your family?

Click here to check out the amazing website Sheridan has dedicated to her grandparents, Fred and Florence!

Just the other day, a writer friend asked me why I didn’t just explain in my book why Cornwall in southern England is warmer than the rest of Britain because of the warm ocean currents coming from the Mediterranean. I patiently replied that the effect of Gulf stream currents on climate in southern England was not exactly common knowledge back then, and I have to use what folks knew and believed during the period, or at least give a good explanation why I’m using something more modern.

Another older friend is married to a retired doctor who started practicing in the 1950’s. She never would exercise during the morning hours because her hubby told her that her body diureses (eliminates fluid) in the morning and she didn’t want to interfere with the process. That’s one of the wildest excuses not to exercise that I’ve ever heard, and I don’t know of any serious athletes who subscribe to that theory, but obviously some part of the medical community believed it at one time.

There are other beliefs that have changed over time, some that I’m glad for, some that are surprising. Examples of old wisdom:
= A low-fat diet is better for you than a low-carb diet (high glycemic carbs are much worse than good fats)
= Eggs and shrimp are high in cholesterol and therefore bad for you (just because a food is high in cholesterol doesn’t mean it will make your body’s blood cholesterol go up)
= High blood cholesterol is bad (nowadays we know that there’s good and bad cholesterol, and you need the good kind to stay healthy)
= Margarine is better for you than butter (trans-fats turned that argument on its head)
= Rest is best for injuries or arthritis (physical therapy can work wonders in many cases)
= Chiropractic/acupuncture/magnets/massage/laser therapy are just voodoo medicine (tell that to my horses)
= Girls can get pregnant just by kissing (thankfully we know better now!)
= Life is all downhill after 30/40/50/60 etc.  (I assure you, it isn’t!  And the demarcation line keeps getting pushed back the older we get.)

Are you glad/surprised/disappointed/amused that some common wisdom has changed over time? Any things you were taught that have been disproved?

Note, however, that I didn’t mention listening to music or reading, which are both a big part of my daily ritual. Some things are better done the old way.

Which made me think about a comment from Steve Jobs of Apple fame who said that the future of the personal computer is a more universal concept. That one day we’ll make calls, read, listen to music, browse the net, get directions, shop, make and send and post videos, etc, etc, etc, all on ONE device.

I’m not there yet, but I’m getting close.

Do you have an ebook? Have you ever read a book on your computer? Would you? What do you use your phone for, other than making and getting phone calls? How do you listen to music? Watch videos? Catch up on missed GLEE episodes?

Do you think that one day we’ll have one device to do all of these things? And if so, how soon?

All across the country, state and local budgets are in trouble, and among the services taking hits—in some places, big hits—are the libraries. It isn’t just a matter of cutting the library budgets by ten or even twenty percent. In some cases libraries are closing, or losing a large percentage of their funding. In many locations libaries are being deemed unessential services. That means they aren’t really necessary. They are a nice extra, to be supported only when a community is flush.

This distresses me at a very personal, emotional level. See, when I was growing up, we did not have money to buy books. It was not even an option. So we went to the library for our books. I was five when I got my first library card. My father went on a regular basis, and he took us with him, and this was just part of the routine of our lives. We didn’t use the library for study sessions or hanging out. We used the library for reading, and for getting books to take home to read.

When I went away to college, the library became my refuge the first year. The rest of the campus was strange and full of new people. But put me in a library, any library, and I am right at home again. It was in college that libraries instilled in me an interest and fascination with research, with the seredipitous discoveries that come from browsing the stacks. In graduate school those stacks only got bigger, longer, richer.

I have since been in libraries all over the world. Grand old world ones so beautiful you are stunned. Small, dusty ones you suspect are fire traps. I love them all. I love them not only for the role they have played in my life, but for what they stand for.

The culture of the world is in its libraries. In this country, for my entire life, anyone could get a public library card, and anyone with that card had access to the ideas, achievements, and histories that define who we are. Public libraries are among the most democratic of institutions in this country. They are places of learning, of betterment, of boot-strapping. Furthermore, a democracy cannot thrive without the free flow of information and knowledge, and that is what public libraries are all about.

I never thought I’d see the day when all this might change. When governors faced with a budget in crisis would just lop off the libraries. When the necessity of libraries would no longer be a given. Maybe people are assuming that it can all be found on the net now. Well, it can’t. And also there are a lot of families like mine when I was a child. If we could not afford to buy books then, what are the odds that today we would be able to afford the technology and isp fees to be on the web?

None of this can go in my speech this weekend. I would be preaching to the choir, for one thing. But stories about libraries, and what they mean to readers, in their memories and current lives, can be part of my speech. So:

Do you have a local library? Do you use it? Would it matter to you if it closed?

Do you have a memory about libraries from when you were a child? A more recent story?

If you could tell libarians anything at all, what would it be? Any suggestions or complaints? (Speaking of complaints, does your library own and catalogue romances?)

So why is it so hard for some writers to create believable children? I’m not a man, yet I write male characters. Paranormal authors aren’t vampires, yet they write blood-sucking heroines. And thank God Karen Rose doesn’t have firsthand experience of the kind of characters she writes or we’d all be in trouble!

We’re fiction writers. We make things up. It’s expected. Still, writing about children is … well, different. The little buggers are hard to pin down. Too many shows have kids spouting clever one-liners. While kids can come out with some real zingers, they’re usually unintentional. Ever heard a six-year-old tell a joke? Was it funny? Really?

That’s why when I come across a real kid in books or on TV, I enjoy it all the more. My favorite these days is Jake Harper from Two and a Half Men. No one is laughing WITH him, they’re laughing at him. He’s not precociously clever, he doesn’t have his stuff together, and like lots of boys his age, his favorite humor is fart jokes and his favorite pastime is food. And now that he’s older, girls. Yet like many kids, he can sometimes be very perceptive about what’s going on in the household. Angus T. Jones plays the role brilliantly, but you can also tell that the writers have SOME experience with real kids. They know their stuff.

My next book (A Hellion in Her Bed, due out September 21st) has a 12-year-old boy as a key secondary character, and I asked my critique partner Deb Marlowe to pay special attention to that part of the book, since she has two sons around that age. I think it’s important to get kids right in fiction.

So who’s your favorite fictional child? Do you enjoy children in fiction (books OR TV/movies)? Do you ever find them unrealistic? What’s the one thing you wish writers would show about kids in fiction that they never do?

Lilies have always been one of my favorite flowers because of their delicacy and elegant lines. But for years I never gave or received lilies since they were supposed to be reserved for funerals and expressions of sympathy.

Thankfully, the stigma against giving lilies seems to be fading. A number of the bouquets and floral arrangements I’ve received in the past couple of years have included lilies. And my local grocery stores now sell Alstoemerias, which look very much like small lilies, for great low prices. Therefore, I’ve been buying a couple of different colors to give to the hostess of dinners and parties I attend.

When I looked up the meanings of certain flowers, it surprised me a little to see that the historic meaning of Alstroemeria is “aspiring.” I also like hydrangeas, which means “perseverance,” and crocuses, which means “foresight.” And I adore the smell of lilacs, which means “first love.” I wonder what that all says about me?

Do certain flowers have any special meaning for you? Do you have a favorite flower that you like to:  1) give to others? 2) receive for yourself? 3) see in a garden?

Recently I realized why. Vampires are dead, and I’ve never been fascinated with death. Murder, yes—but that’s because I’m always trying to figure out what makes a criminal tick. I like suspense because I’m interested in the psychology of psychopathy. Not death. The autopsy scenes gross me out.

I said this to my sister-in-law, and she said that was why she liked vampires, because death interests her. Then again, she’s a med tech who researches blood technologies—I can see why anything having to do with blood would pique her interest.

Claudia told me recently that she doesn’t like road books. She thinks it’s because she doesn’t like traveling. I don’t like Cinderella stories, possibly because I was raised by missionaries who taught me that money wasn’t a legitimate measure of success. But I love every version of Beauty and the Beast. Is it because I think there’s a beast in all of us?

My point is that our tastes in books often say more about US than about the books themselves. That’s why two friends may not agree on books they love. And two people who don’t relate in other ways might love the same sub-genre. We each have quirks that result in our being drawn to certain themes, certain plots, certain characters.

Which themes, plots, motifs, or characters float your boat and why? Which ones don’t appeal for reasons that you can point to? Do you agree that our book likes and dislikes say as much about us as the books themselves?

When I travel, I change everything — I eat different things than I normally would, watch different sorts of entertainments, and sleep at different times than usual. Heck, I even dress differently. Not uhm, like any of the women in this picture … but in ways more traditional to whatever place I’m visiting.

Yet when I go home, I slip right back into my old, familiar patterns. In this, I’m very predictable.

For example:

Monday 11 a.m. – I’ll just be getting up. Hot Cop and I are on a late night schedule now, so this is early morning time for us.

Wednesday  2 p.m. – Writing time! I’m usually curled up on my cushy couch or at a favorite coffee shop.

Friday 10 p.m. – Castle. (Thanks to Suzanne Enoch for starting this addiction. ‘Preciate ya!)

Saturday 5 p.m. - I’m usually taking a long walk around the lake at that time.

Sunday  noon – Watching Meet the Press (we tivo it, and then catch it when we get up.)

It’s good to be both predictable AND – when the time is right – a little bit unpredictable. Which brings me to you, my dearest fellow goddesses!

Are you a creature of habit? Or are you an adventurer and like to mix things up each and every day? Or are you BOTH? And just for fun, where are you usually at:

Monday 10 a.m.:

Wednesday 10 p.m.:

Saturday 2 p.m.:

Sunday 8 a.m.: