Lynn Raye Harris

It occurs to me, by reading other blogs and reading about how some folks are shooting themselves in the foot by blogging about employers, etc, that I should state for the record that all this blither-blather I type is simply my opinion and that I love a good debate and that I am easily persuaded to see the error of my ways, when I am in error. Ha! My employer, if I have one, is the DH, otherwise known as the darling hubby, the wonderful man who rocks my world and doesn’t mind one tiny bit that I stay home all day working on books while he slaps on combat boots and goes out to defend the world each day (okay, so maybe duty in Hawaii isn’t exactly defending the world, but hey). If I’m lucky enough to sell my stories, you can be sure I will have nothing but wonderful things to say about my employer, aka publisher, at least in a public forum such as this. I don’t imagine every writer out there is happy with her publisher all the time, so I reserve the right to have a private snit should the time come. Ha!

Must get back to the book…..

Just read about the book deal Julie Powell, who cooked all of Julia Child’s recipes in a year, got. Sheesh, why can’t I think of stuff like this!? I remember the article in the NYT a couple of years ago when she was still cooking and blogging about it. Why don’t these brilliant ideas strike me? Why can’t I get a mega-bucks book deal for making recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking? Because I do have the book and I do cook from it, damn it. (Salad Nicoise is awesome, as is the crepe recipe.) Maybe I should dig into my cookbooks and copy Julie. Hmm, how about Cooking with Justin Wilson? No? What about Will Rogers’ Oklahoma Cookbook?

Okay, maybe not. Sheesh.

In other news, I was reading Wanda Writer’s post about turning 30 and I just wanted to say a couple of things. First, I enjoy the site. Second–hon, it’s only 30. Trust me, from someone galloping toward the opposite end of that decade, 30 is no big whoop! And I’m sure you’re young and gorgeous, no matter what you think. Don’t sweat it, it’ll all be fine, I’m sure. As for the stuff about Brad Pitt types falling in love with Gilda Radner types–well, I think women write that stuff because it’s what women would do. Don’t believe me? What about Sandra Bullock and Jesse James? She’s gorgeous and he’s, well, ahem, okay I guess. (Would you want to marry a guy whose last wife was a porn star? Not me! How can you possibly live up to how good she was in bed, no matter how rich and gorgeous you are?)

I absolutely adored SEP’s Heaven, Texas, which is of course the ultimate gorgeous guy falling for plain woman book, at least in my opinion. (Yeah, I know Crusie’s Bet Me also features such a deal, but I didn’t care for that one nearly as much–probably because I was reading it when my kitty was near the end of her life, so it’s not Jennifer’s fault so much as mine.) Maybe it wouldn’t really happen, at least not as often as romance writers write it, but I love that fantasy (ooh, Pierce Brosnan and his wife, Keely Shaye Smith! She’s quite a bit chunky, though still lovely, while he is, well, James Bond). Even wrote my own version of it in the last novel, which is still languishing in 2nd draft mode while I tap out this Blaze. My heroine is a little weight challenged, and a lot confidence challenged, mostly because she has a gorgeous sister she compares herself to. The hero is, naturally, the most yummy of male confections, dressed in his Navy uniform and grumbling at every turn about this damn woman who’s crashed (literally) into his life. Darn it, now I want to work on that book.

*sigh* And now I’m reminded that I need to get busy. Where’s my handy kitchen timer? Don’t tell me I put it back in the kitchen…….

1. I am not a bad writer.
2. I can and will finish this book.
3. I can and must and will write this blasted thesis, even if I am terrified of one of the readers (oh yes, got that signed contract back with mentor–adore him–and two readers, one I don’t know and one who scares the pants off me).
4. Can’t sell if you don’t submit. Like duh! But I keep putting it off because I need to do just one more thing….
5. Running 2 miles is a pain in the butt. And legs. And lungs.
6. Men are silly–hubby just had to have new Nike Free shoes, even though he bought new running shoes two months ago. Nike Free shoes weigh like 4 ounces each and look something like a sock. It’s a running shoe, though. It’s supposed to be like running barefoot. The latest thing, apparently.
7. I need a maid. Not getting one though. First need an income.
8. My fat butt needs to get back to the gym. Pronto.
9. I have a terrible time getting back to work after the weekend. Must work through weekend from now on. Should be easy to do with hubby working on MBA. In theory, anyway.
10. Reading blogs is addictive. Must learn better time management skills.

Take the What High SchoolStereotype Are You? quiz.

Found this pic of Miss Kitty at 17 yrs old. One of my favs. (c) LRH

I miss my Kitty. That’s her picture under my profile. Miss Kitty was 19 and 1/2 years old when we had her put to sleep on New Year’s Eve 2004. I can honestly say that was one of the WORST days of my life. I had that cat for 18 of those years, and I loved her so much. I still get upset (like now) and I still miss her terribly and it’s 7 months ago now. She was my baby. We went through so much together. Hell, we grew up together in many ways. I was 19 when I got her and I’m nearly twice that now. I had her for half my life.

What started this maudlin trip? The picture of Kara Lennox with her cat on Romancing the Blog. Miss Kitty was a tortoiseshell and she had an orange stripe just like that on her head. Same place and everything. I was shocked, belive me, when I clicked on that page this morning. Miss Kitty’s face wasn’t as light, but wow, what a close match.

Hubby misses her too, though he doesn’t understand the tears and all that after so long. I can’t help it. I never want to go through that again, as in standing in that vet’s office and making that decision. I wish she’d died peacefully in her sleep, but it wasn’t to be. She had kidney failure and heart failure and still she held on and tried to keep living. Broke my friggin’ heart.

I still have my Thumper, who is 15, but our relationship just isn’t the same. I adore him and now I worry about him leaving me too, but we don’t interact quite the same as Miss Kitty and I did.

Even my husband was shocked over the pic of Kara’s cat today. I guess that’s why Kitty’s on my mind, and why I’m going to have to explain in the next 10 minutes when hubby sees me why I have tear-streaked cheeks. I hate explaining it to him, because he is a man and so much more unemotional than me. I’m not sure he believes me when I tell him that emotion doesn’t equal weakness.

Is it just me, or did everyone get their RWR too freaking late to send in the survey? I PAY for first class postage to Hawaii, mostly because I had to pay for it when I was in Germany and I never stopped paying for it when I moved. Yep, I pay $90 a year to RWA, $15 of which means I am supposed to get my RWR damn quick. Usually, I do. This time I didn’t, so now I’m wondering if, a) it’s a conspiracy to keep us all from having an opinion, or b) the whole darned mailing got screwed up because of the time it took to print and paste that form in place. (No, I don’t really believe it’s option a.)

But I’m mailing the survey back anyway, just in case it makes it in time.

Secondly, has anyone bothered to check the by-laws and see if we actually allow genetically enhanced human-alien-whatever combo people to be members of RWA? Because, damn it, Sherrilyn Kenyon has got to be from another planet. 100 pages in a day when pushing it? 100 to 150 pages in a week? 42 days to write and edit a complete book? Someone pass me the smelling salts.

And, finally, never think about your books while on an enforced jog. Hubby took me to the track and made me run a mile and 3/4 tonight. While huffing and puffing and putting one foot in front of the other, I started to plot. And as I plotted the book that I want to write soon, I started thinking about the book that preceded it (it’s currently in 2nd draft mode and on hold while I finish the first draft of the Blaze I’m working on). And doggone it, I started imagining a complete career change for the hero that would make the book line up more with the second book in the series (the one that’s not written but that will involve a lot more military action than the first). I’ve got to think more about this, and preferably when I’m not revved up on adrenaline.

I got another toe ring today. Yep, just what I needed. But how can I pass up $5 sterling silver toe rings with Hawaiian designs? I can’t, that’s what.

You know you’ve lived in Hawaii for a while when you spend the day at the beach and don’t actually get in the water, or even put on your swim suit. Hubby’s company picnic was today. I took the swim suit, took beach chairs, took sunscreen, took an umbrella, towels, books, etc. I was prepared. What did I do? Talked on the phone first, then sat under an umbrella with a group of other folks and talked. Oh, and ate a hamburger, various picnic foods, and about 6 mini cream puffs that some lady kept shoving at everyone. Those darn things were good, but holy cow, there went the diet for the day. Just when you thought you were safe, she’d show up with her tongs and cream puffs and there you were with another one. I took the camera, but didn’t take pictures. Why not? No idea, except I kept thinking, oh, I’ve got pictures of water already. *sigh* I love Hawaii.

Wrote several pages yesterday, but cut some too, so not sure how much I wrote since I was in a fog and just editing and writing like crazy. Also figured out where the book is going now, and how to splice what I have now into what I had before. Some of it still has to go, of course, but I think I know what to do. We’ll see. Naturally, these ideas come to me right before a busy weekend when I know I’m going to be running a million places. Monday, I’ll sit at the computer all quiet and calm and won’t have the foggiest clue what to do.

Tomorrow is a critique meeting with my other group. Don’t know what to take. I’ve been taking a different book to them than to the Wednesday group. Better go have a look and see what I need to print.

Aloha, a hui ho!

*sigh* The rigors of being a romance writer, and being blonde to boot. People one sees on occasion often forget that said blonde romance writer also has (almost) an advanced degree in Litrachoor and does, yes indeed, know what constitutes literary prose. It is not pages and pages and pages full of overblown writing. But you try telling that to someone who only sees you as a low-brow hack and see how seriously they take your comments upon their work. And even if I am just a low-brow hack, I’m still a reader and I’m telling you that that stuff leaps out at me like a teenage boy on a first date. (No, I am way too old for teenage boys, thank God, but I do remember those dates with octopus-handed young men.)

Women who diss romance amaze me. It’s okay not to like it, but you need to know why you don’t like it. Is it because you buy into the prevalent (male) attitude that it’s trash? Or because you just don’t care to read about a male/female relationship that may or may not stray into unbelievability (some of these books definitely do)? If you think romance is all about a woman needing a man, what about Bridget Jones and the chick lit genre? Bridget, who was lots of fun, was searching for romantic love as well as self-knowledge. So’s the shopaholic chick. They have more realistic encounters in the dating pool, sure, but they’re still looking for love. It’s what women do. It doesn’t make us less of a person, though the dominant western patriarchal culture would have you believe so. (And I don’t mean just romantic love, btw; I also mean acceptance, like the feminine journey in Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees, or Susie Salmon’s quest for happiness and acceptance in Heaven in The Lovely Bones.)

A great book to read about women and male culture is The Heroine’s Journey: Woman’s Quest to Wholeness by Maureen Murdock. Here’s the logline from Amazon: A 9 stage process that entails at first rejecting feminine values, making it in the man’s world, experiencing spiritual death, and finally turning inward to reclaim the power and spirit of the feminine. The book is a little kooky in parts, for me anyway. I’ve never had any dreams like those she describes, though I did once have a Journey dream where I had to help a very old lady get somewhere. Once I got her there safely, she turned into a young and beautiful goddess archetype who rewarded me with knowledge I’d been seeking. That, so far as I can remember, is my only cool symbolic dream. Otherwise, I dream about mundane stuff.

But, back to the book, the chapter on Healing the Mother/Daughter Split gave me some eureka moments. Worth a read, especially if you’re interested in why romance novels get belittled so often. (I’m assuming, since this blog is listed on romance writer sites, that most people who read it are romance writers/fans.)

Miss P, if you’re reading, get that blog up and running please. I want to read your comments on male silliness in the political world.

Oh, cute joke heard last night on the radio. Why do women use twice as many words every day as men? Because they always have to repeat themselves. I, of course, took it to mean that men weren’t listening, as usual, and we have to repeat what we just said. Men, I suppose, could take it to mean that we can’t just say something once. I love men, btw. They are irritating, sure, but oh so necessary to this female’s happiness. Or at least one man in particular is. So don’t think I am pitting woman against man in some sort of eternal struggle. Men have dominated written history for many reasons, and for millenia, so taking some of that back and getting respect for feminine values is an on-going process. But we still need the gorgeous idiots. Someone has to mow the lawn, right? [Kidding!]

Progress report: pg 180. 100 pages left. Some of what I have still needs to be cut, like I said previously. I think I know where I’m going with this. Next book, I am going to try to outline ahead of time. I have always been a pantster, but I’m going to try the plotter technique. If I can rough out a thesis, why can’t I rough out a novel?

Started Kristin Hardy’s Certified Male (Harl/Blaze) the other day. Great immersion into Vegas and that whole gambling lifestyle. Nice mystery. H/H didn’t meet for about 30 pages, but it worked. Still haven’t picked The Rule of Four up again. Also, started to read Neill D. Hicks’s Screenwriting 101. I’ve had it on my shelf forever, so thought I’d thumb through it. Very good so far! All this stuff applies to fiction. I don’t envision myself as a screenwriter, so that’s probably why I had’t yet read it. Someone gave it to me.

Music: someone in critique had me listen to My Chemical Romance. Not too sure about that. I couldn’t understand the lyrics. I promised to try again, though. Their video for “Helena,” with the dead girl dancing, made me think of Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance,” starring Kim Basinger. I prefer the Petty.

Aloha, a hui ho!

No, Oprah didn’t call me, darn it. But, someone who has been a featured guest on her show did. Mr. Wally Amos, formerly of Famous Amos Cookies, called me on Monday morning to apologize personally for missing our meeting on Saturday. What a nice, classy man. He didn’t make any excuses. He said he just plain forgot; he had out-of-town company and got busy with them and forgot until the afternoon that he had somewhere he was supposed to be that morning. We are going to reschedule. He said he made a comittment and he honors his commitments. Like I said, classy guy. Wonder if I can get a recipe…..

I finally called my university yesterday and just gave them their lousy $15. Who needs the hassle? Apparently, though the amorphous charge has never appeared on my account, they’ve put a financial hold on my activities, meaning I can’t register or anything. Sheesh. Fifteen bucks, people. And I’ve already got all the credits I need, with the exception of this blasted 5 hour thesis, so give me a break. I’m not registering for anything, except the thesis anyway.

The point, however, is that the brief contact with the academic world left me panicking about this thesis. I have GOT to get busy on it. I have 7 pages written. I need at the very least 50. Knowing me, it will be nearly twice that. So, I’ve decided to give myself a deadline. I have to finish my novel by the end of July. Then, I have to work on the thesis and get at least the first two chapters drafted by the end of August. My mentor wants to use my work on the second chapter for a class he’s teaching in the Fall. I’ve known this for months.

I suppose I need to cut myself off from the ‘net for the rest of the month. I probably won’t handle that very well. It is necessary, however, so my blog will be on hold, or only populated by tiny entries, for the rest of the month. Okay, yes, tiny entries. That makes me happier. Progress reports, I suppose.

Quick progress report on my WIP: I have 174 pages. I need 280 – 300. I’m on page 83 in my revision with many pages still to be chopped. This is Debra Dixon’s fault. GMC has put me in this position. I can salvage some of what I have, but there are some scenes that are completely irrelevant now. I imagine I will lose 40 pages or so of irrelevant stuff. Not really sure yet.

Aloha.