That moment I'll always treasure!

There’s a moment at every convention–at least for me–when I think, “Okay.  If nothing else happens, it won’t matter.  It was worth it.  The sore feet or the stress, the fears, the nerves, all the doubts you overcome when you step out at an event with your peers…it disappears.  Not that I’m not genuinely happy at events, mind you.  I love love love meeting people and brushing up against all the talented and incredible authors who inspire me to try harder.

But I’m human and a relatively small fish in this enormous pond we swim in.  So when that moment comes when you forget all of that, you embrace it.  I do.  For me, for 2013, it was my friend, Lindsey.  She’s more than a reader.  She’s a sister/friend and that person you correspond with or talk to without edits.  And this was her first RT.  She came because I sort of, begged her.  And then it was magic.  I had the wonderful treat of watching her meet her favorites for the first time, get books, get hugs, get invites and then have dozens of writers excited to see her and vying for her attention.  Her excitement and enthusiasm was contagious and I was reminded how unique your first convention experience is…

Lindsey was crying she was so happy.  And that was it.

So I had my moment.  Because Lindsey let me share RT with her.   And I honestly accepted that if I didn’t sell a single book at the fair on that Saturday, I wouldn’t care.  (I sold out BTW but I was very happy to be a relaxed human being that fateful day  And then the moments just kept coming!  I met other super readers (Crystal…you know I’m talking about you, right?) and fans that made me feel humbled and honored that they even knew my name–much less had read my books!!  Every encounter made it clear that I’m on the right path.  Maybe not for fame and glory (which I will take if they come as I’m no fool!) but I’m on the right path for happiness.  I’m following my bliss and despite the ups and downs, I’m moving forward.  And who can complain about that?

I’ve stumbled onto the most amazing inner circle of writer friends a girl could ask for.  (I LOVE you, guys!  I’m not listing all of you because then it starts to sound like an acceptance speech or farewells….besides if I brag about you, there could be poaching!)  I’ve got friends and readers I wouldn’t trade for any amount of money.  I’ve got a sister/friend in Australia that I’m determined not to stalk (I’m very very very attached, Megan. How many skypes in a 24 hour period is considered excessive?) and I’ve somehow tricked new people into letting me text them…

Life is good.  RT was great.  Because it felt like my first one.  Thank you, Lindsey.

ps.  Nancy Goodman, you realize I will be expecting you next year in New Orleans.  I will beg you and then…you’ll be my moment.

Here it is! My new baby!

Isn’t it fabulous?  My first graphic novel and I’m so excited to finally see the cover!  ”Azrael’s Girl” is COMING SOON and will be on sale for $.99, so order more than one, please!

Just kidding.  One.  One is good.

This is a new world for me in “The Eternity Gambit” and unlike other paranormal tales of Angels and Demons, readers should be ready for a new twist on a very very old game.  After all, it’s the Archangel of Death…and who doesn’t love a hero with a nice dark tortured edge to him?

I want to invite all my historical romance fans to take a look and join me on a new journey!  (But I promise, I’m not abandoning the mainland…I just thought we’d go on a jaunt and try something new…)

What do you think of the cover, friends?

Not that I’m embarrassed by…  I mean….I’m proud of what I do but….

Ah, the dilemmas of matching up our internal landscape with the reality around us!  Sigh.

In any case, if you’re an author or you have any large print format books to send to my friend, please contact me through the website here and help me to swamp her with wonderful reading materials for the residents in her facility!!  I want those seniors to be able to lose themselves in stories and enjoy the chance to escape the everyday.

Thanks, friends!

But even if it had snowed, I started to think how fleeting that was.  About the beauty of each snowflake and how transient that beauty…

And I just drank it in.  God I love the bittersweet of Cherry Blossom Moments of life.  I think I’m secretly addicted to them a little bit.  They feel more tangible and real than the shinier Holiday Moments I spend so much energy trying to create these days.  It can feel so theatrical with the lights and orchestrated videos of the girls…

Tomorrow night will be a Cherry Blossom Moment in the guise of a Holiday Moment.  My youngest will have her first “winter dance recital” and while she dances (or more likely stands there just staring at the audience as if we’ve invaded her personal space and should probably go) it’s going to be hard not to cry.

Because she’s so beautiful and so precious.  And it’s all going so fast.

She’s my snowflake.  Unique.  One of a Kind.  And before I can blink, she’ll be heading off to school, or learning to drive or asking me where I put her college applications…

And it’s cherry blossoms.  Cherry blossoms wearing snowflake costumes…  see the irony?

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting pecked to death by ducks.

Life isn’t always about big fights and majestic moments where you get to draw your line in the sand or make some grand gesture of artistic merit.  Apparently life is mostly about the little stuff.  And I’m finally accepting it.

Sprints are so sexy.  I mean, they always show that cheetah burst of speed and “the hunt” on those nature channels–NOT some other animal just quietly making the slog from one side of the savannah to the other…  Marathons–Life Long Marathons–are not exactly cinematic or riveting.

But it’s a marathon.  Without the cheering crowds and matching t-shirts.

And if I have a stitch in my side and am on the brink of wanting to just sit by the side of the road and put my face in my hands and cry; I have to laugh.  Because if I ignore the cliches about “winners never quitting and quitters never winning”…my three year old just interrupted my pity party to inform me that Grey Bunny is MIA and she needs chocolate milk.

Once more into the breach!

It’s a marathon.  I’m retying my shoes, getting another cup of tea and jumping back in.

Okay, world.  Readers.  The Brave Among You.

Aunt Alice, the *ahem* prim and proper woman of a certain age you know from “Revenge Wears Rubies” is online.  Send in your questions here and brace yourself.  I won’t be editing her responses.  Seriously.  I have no idea what she’ll say.  But if you have any dilemmas of the heart, relationships, or life in general, she is standing by.

Here we go.

Also all entries will automatically be in for the Big Victorian Prize Basket (valued at over $200) in December/January!  So it’s TWO contests in ONE!

Enter now!  (And save yourself any stress over budgets for Christmas while at the same time, tucking a great book away to put your feet up with after the holidays!!!!)

That’s why he says things that make my eyes glow red in the dark and send me over the edge where I think that the women on “Snapped” may have acted reasonably and with total justification.  Because sometimes husbands say things soooo over the line, you have to wonder.  Did one of his friends dare him to see if he could survive it?  It this a test?  Are there hidden cameras somewhere?  Is he KIDDING?

Here’s the scenario.

Morning TV show announces that men stop caring about their appearance at 37 years of age.  I shake my head and say, “How do they come up with this stuff?”

DH: I know EXACTLY when men stop caring and its completely at a woman’s direction.

me: ??  What does that mean?

DH: Women deliberately make a man unmarketable to keep him close to home and to make sure that he is not a target.

me:  Are…you…serious?  Women–what was that again?  You think that women systematically “claim” men as property by making them look bad?

DH:  (nods like I get a gold star) Absolutely!

me:  (the arms are crossed.  It’s a subtle sign that I’m castling up and he needs to be careful.  Naturally he ignores it.)  That’s way off, pumpkin.  I “control” nothing about your appearance and let the record show that for as long as I’ve known you, every request to alter your wardrobe, shoe choice or you name it, has gone by the boards.  I would LOVE for you to be more “marketable” as there isn’t a woman walking that wouldn’t love to have a well-dressed, groomed, handsome man on her arm for bragging rights.  I’ll happily burn every torn t-shirt and ugly hawaiian shirt you own if you say the word!  What you’re saying goes against all logic, baby.

DH:  Whatever you say.  (but his expression reads more like : yeah, sure. and then he pats his expanded waistline for emphasis….since I have apparently “deliberately” made him unmarketable…)

me:  (Here comes the DEATH STARE…My eyes are red…the odds of him enjoying sleeping outside in a tent are skyrocketing.  I stand up.)  You caught me.  I’m a mastermind of subterfuge and sabotage.  I’ve somehow managed to stay the exact same weight, after TWO children, yet all the while I was serving healthy meals to the rest of the family, in your food, I’ve stuck in magically hidden calories.  I’ve hypnotized you to eat entire pizzas when you’re out with the boys, to drink beer and diet sodas and eat entire bags of chips after 10pm—all against your will.  I am evil.  I am jealous and insecure.  I have done all this so that I can keep every sexy pound of hawaiian wrapped manliness all to myself.  You caught me.  Call the news crew.

DH:  (grumble mumble grumble)

me:  I can see my next romance novel hero now…..can’t you?  Wanna guess what he’s wearing?

DH: (retreats without a word….and yes….he has three holes in his t-shirt as he heads out bravely to face the world….a “claimed” man.)

Except when someone wants to be “friends” and then I get a picture of their boobs.

Errr…..awkward?  What do you say?  Gee.  They’re very nice.  I have my own, thanks. Were you asking for a rating? Did the mention of my husband and kids telegraph a different message?  (Which by the way also applies to the men who think “hi! Lets’ video chat!” is also welcome…. )  Bottom Line:  I’m not looking for a date, a glance at your “stuff” or anything that involves me wondering how in god’s name I get that off my browsing history….  Okay??

Am I angry at these people?  Not really.  They make me sad.  Those beautiful girls who make themselves less with every posting and every picture, make me sad.  The guys who pose and posture and outcurse sailors make me sad.  They all look so lost and desperate.  And I always think, wow, and here I am writing romances which for this girl/guy is probably like me writing gibberish.  It’s as far from their experience as the man on the moon….

I think of Maggie in “Passion Wears Pearls”, lost a little and misguided in seeing herself as a thing of no worth.  Maggie haunted me and I want to tell my readers to please look for her in “Obsession Wears Opals” and know that I wouldn’t leave her out in the snow.

So, okay, friends.  See you at the next gathering.  Clothing is NOT optional.

Until I got one.  And then all became clear.

And then I had about a hundred more and I became a True Believer.

If I’ve ever used that phrase inadvertently in a sex scene, I hereby apologize.

It won’t happen again.