The Galley has arrived!

Wow! It has an ISBN on page six and everything! I have to check it over for boo-boos, and then send it back. Maybe then I'll get a release date. I am dancing.

Oh, darn; I've been tagged.

Clover, another Wild Rose Press author, has tagged me. I must reveal eight things about myself, and then tag eight other bloggers. This is a great opportunity for you to get to know me a little better. This is my first time, so hold on!

1. I hate phones. Really. If I have to order a pizza, I get a stomach ache. Thank goodness most of my family has email or they'd never hear from me.

2. I have a birthmark on my lower back.

3. I'm so paranoid about my breath that I'm constantly chewing sugarless gum.

4. When faced with a series of tasks, I say them out loud so I won't forget what the heck I'm doing.

5. Drivers who don't signal really irritate me.

6. When I was little, I was afraid of butterflies.

7. I love hockey. To be fair, everyone should know that about me.

8. When I was seven, I stepped on a golf tee my dad had left on the stairs. Now, if anyone says 'golf tee' out loud, my foot tingles and my toes curl up. It's doing it right now...


In case I tag you, here are the rules:
1) Each player starts with 8 random facts or habits about themselves.
2) People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their 8 things with a copy of these rules.
3) At the end of your blog you need to choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.
4) Don't forget to leave them a note saying they've been tagged.

Forgive me if you've already been tagged: LaurieB, PennyOz, Tsuki, Cathy, Leslie, John, Vicki and Rebecca.

Miss Snark has announced her retirement.

I'm saddened, but not surprised. Only the most saintly and hardened individual could possibly put up with the various degrees of nitwittery I have witnessed on that blog over the last two years and two million posts. And I was one of them. I thought I knew what I was doing when I first started out, and I cringe when I look at my first query letters. Prospective agents must have taken one look, and thought "Newbie. This one needs to read Miss Snark's blog more often." I don't have an agent yet, but because of Miss Snark, Evil Editor and Elektra's Crapometer, as well as my lovely friends at Romance Writers Unlimited, I was able to crank out a fairly decent novel. I am now able to negotiate the labyrinth of the publishing world without looking like a nitwit, but I am fully aware that I have a long way to go. I will miss Miss Snark, and so will many others. I'll try to apply what I've learned. Sure, she had many snippets of wisdom, but what I'll miss most of all is her cutting humour and the way she responded to my non-nitwit emails with thanks and a chuckle that I could hear over the cybersphere. I lift a G&T to you, Miss Snark.

It was a dark and stormy... well, you get the picture

Weather seems to play an important role in the creation of romance fiction, but I try to steer away from the "getting caught in the rain" kissing scenes. But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy them.

I'm fortunate to live in an area where tornadoes aren't a constant threat, so watching a good rip snortin' thunderstorm is one of my favourite activities as long as I'm not standing in the middle of it. Sometimes during car trips, I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of a particularly dramatic cloud formation or that elusive flash of lightning. Don't worry, I'm not the driver.

Last night, a thunderstorm rolled through our region. I swung the window open and inhaled the metallic odour of ozone rising to meet the rain, then kept my eyes peeled for the light show.

Chester, my husky/sheltie cross, didn't enjoy it so much. He's getting old and a little neurotic, so any cracking or booming noises now send him scurrying to the basement. Oh, well... he'll be sure to be safe if there IS a tornado! I'd probably still be hanging out the window trying to get a shot with my digital camera.

The storm didn't live up to my expectations. After the rain passed, the setting sun made up for my disappointment by illuminating the drips that fell from the apple blossoms. The sky matched the tree.

That trickling sound, along with the distant rumble of thunder, is soothing. As long as the trickling isn't leaking into the basement.

I guess I'd better go downstairs and check.

When my son saw this sunset, he told me it looked like a Barbie factory explosion.

The Cover is Done!

After a week of emails back and forth with Tamra, Wild Rose Press's artist, we finally have an approved cover. We worked together on this one - I provided the shark tooth and drew the braided grass necklace, and she adjusted the surf background and provided the typesetting. I think we did a nice job.

Now I just have to wait for approval on the manuscript and a release date. I think. Gosh, I still don't know what comes next.

I can't speak for other writers, but I feel so many levels of accomplishment while creating a novel. First, the act of stringing together a bunch of words that actually hold somebody's attention is a feat to be proud of.

Then, being told that your guinea pigs enjoyed the story makes me tingle. After that, getting the approval of a publisher (or agent) is something to get really excited about.

Then we have the little steps taken to make it all real. Edits, my name under "Authors" on the website (giggle) and the cover. Next, I'll jump up and down when I get the release date, or the final copy of the manuscript - I'm not sure which comes first. I'll letcha know when I get to it.

Every little moment seems like it's the best you'll ever feel, and then along comes another one.

Cover Girl

As a writer, I like to surround myself with images and 'draw' from them in order to enrich my story. Sometimes, a photograph I take or an image I create can be the inspiration for a story.

I've been asked to give my input on the design of my book cover. I have a couple of ideas, and plan to send thumbnails to the artist very soon. It's nice to have a publisher that gives the writer a say in cover design. I hear it's not usually the case. Chances of obtaining a cover that truly reflects the story within can be a bit of a crapshoot.

Some authors get covers they don't expect, but from what I hear, most of them are happy with the results after they recover from their surprise.

By the way, I sent my final edits back yesterday. At least, I think they're final. I guess I now have to wait for a release date, or more edits... or something!

Okay, back to work. I'm trying to draw a braided grass necklace in Photoshop. Not easy, but fun!

Photo: Staring down a cliff on Grand Manaan Island, NB.

It's Derby Day!

If you read this blog, you know that I love horses. Horse racing is an emotional, exciting and phenomenal experience. I once had dreams of being a jockey.

I'm a big fan of Dick Francis, and I don't think I've missed a single ride with his characters. His style is spare yet delivered with a precise punch. I hope to write a horse related novel someday. Who knows, maybe it'll become a habit.

I once crawled through the grass to take pictures of a thundering finish during the Queen's Plate in the early 80's. I just kept the motor drive clicking as the horses rounded the final turn. It wasn't until the film was developed that I discovered I'd caught a seven-horse spill in excruciating detail.

This illustrates one of the downfalls to the sport of racing. Some criticise the sport, stating that it's cruel to the horses. But they love to run. look at their ears, their eyes. They love it. I say, let 'em do it. Just don't try to take the horse to the race, let him take you.

Now, to pick my winner. I like the name "Imawildandcrazyguy". Reminds me of Steve Martin in his SNL days. Also, he's a grey, just like Steve! He's 50-1, so it's a long shot for sure.

Thank God You're Here

There's a new and exciting television show called Thank God You're Here. Popular comedians test their improv skills by dressing up in a costume and allowing themselves to be thrown in the middle of a scene with absolutely no idea who they are, where they are, or what they're doing. The object is to be funny on the fly.

Improvisation comedy isn't scripted. A performer must rely on his or her wits in order to come up with a hilarious performance. This type of performing isn't necessarily better or worse than rehearsed, but it's certainly a different way to approach your craft. It's also great training.

In some ways, writing can be approached in similar ways. We can do detailed outlines and research, carefully plotting each scene with a definite goal in mind (rehearse), or we can simply throw ourselves into the middle of a scene and come up with something that will capture the reader (improv).

I'm trying both ways, just to see which method suits me. I think improv is winning.

That's me as Captain Jack Sparrow. I love Halloween.

I've Been Kissed, But Never in New York

I heart New York. But I've never been there. I can only glean my impression of the city from the books I have read and the movies I've seen. The romance, the vitality, the architecture... I could go on and on. Alas, I may have to win the lottery or get the big advance before I witness that beautiful city with mine own eyes.

Last fall, my daughter had the opportunity to go on a school trip with her high school art class. The teacher wanted me to accompany them as a chaperone, since he knew I was an artist, too. Regretfully, I had to decline, since we could only scrape up the funds for my daughter to go.

Maybe, just maybe someday I'll stroll down the sidewalks of Manhattan, peek into the coffee shops and delis, and look up at the facades of those big publishing and agent type buildings. Maybe one of them will have my name somewhere in their file cabinets.

--Photo courtesy of the one who went. Can you see Woody waving from his window?

Welcome to the Flight

I have come to the conclusion that I am a 'fly by the seat of my pants' writer. My current novel doesn't remotely resemble the outline I had set out for it.

I pounded out 2000 words last night - the second half of a car chase in the mountains. Every time a new twist presents itself, I find it necessary to go back and make adjustments in the first chapters so everything doesn't get completely unraveled. So far, it's holding together.

I don't know why I didn't think of this writing stuff more than two years ago. It's fun.

On a non-writing note, it was finally warm enough today to walk to my car without shivering with cold. I think Spring is finally here. Which means..... venturing into the back yard to get rid of a winter's worth of dog poo. Oh, joy.

I had a dream

Since I was a child, my dreams held such vivid clarity that I remember some of them almost forty years later. I remember flying, fighting with a purple octopus, fighting in a Crimean-type war, and being chased by elves.

Some of my dreams had sound tracks. Honest. Even credits at the end. Maybe I watched too much TV, but there you have it.

A few months ago, I had a dream that inspired the beginning of one of my current WIPs. I remember standing in a window, looking down into a courtyard. A man with a gun raises his weapon and shoots. After the initial panic and confusion and noise, another man appears at my door. He is, well.... let's just say that he is my next protagonist in my new novel.

Now I just have to think of a plot to go with all that hotness. It's coming along. Honest. Maybe this one will have credits at the end. And raunchy rock music.

Boy + Girl + Hockey

Where can you possibly go wrong? I mean, hockey players have muscles - probably more than NASCAR drivers, and they're definitely better looking (with apologies to Jeff Gordon fans). If Harlequin can have a NASCAR romance line, why not an NHL line?

Girls love hockey. I think there's a place in the romance market for more hockey romances. I've seen a few out there, and I feel there's room for more.

My current novel under submission is a hockey romance, its tentative title teetering (try to say that fast) between Bad Ice and The Lost Season. It opens with a shooting in an arena during a professional hockey game. The heroine inadvertently foils the murder attempt, thus saving the life of a hockey player.

Last night during a Leaf game, a fan collapsed in the stands. The players sat at their respective benches, anxiously watching the drama unfold.

I checked the news this morning, and discovered that the person who first attended to the heart attack victim was a female fan, a nurse wearing a Darcy Tucker jersey. She performed CPR on the gentleman and probably saved his life.

Life imitates art. Sort of.