May 15, 2008

Get ready Jaunty Quills enthusiasts. Memorial Day weekend is just ten days away! I’m Pam Morsi, your guest blogger today. And I’m here to remind you that hot dogs and potato salad are in your immediate future.

It’s been a busy month for me. I’ve got a new book out and I’ve been doing some traveling around to try to promote it. I like traveling, but I really like staying at home too. So, I try not to overbook myself and spend more time than I really want on the road. With that said, yesterday nobody was more surprised than me when I decided that for this Memorial Day weekend I would head north to Oklahoma and see my old Uncle Bob.

Uncle Bob is a gentle soul, with a smile so wide it makes his eyes disappear, and a laugh that comes rumbling up from a depth of good humor. He’s the last of his generation in my family. He’s outlived his brother and sister and most of his friends. Although he still takes care of his own yard, he’s just not as strong as he used to be. He doesn’t see as well and doesn’t drive unless it’s an emergency.

On Saturday, the 24th, his high school will have a big alumni picnic. He wants to go and visit old friends. So I’m going to take him.

His class, the Seniors of 1942 faced a world so different from ours, it’s hard to get our minds around it. Many of his classmates quit school before graduation to go into the military. And others who’d signed up for the National Guard right out of Boy Scouts were simply plucked out of class. He knew that he would be going off to fight a war, because the whole world was involved in one.

Bob was lucky to come back, he says. Lucky because some of the battles he was in, D-Day, the Hurtgen Forrest, the Battle of the Bulge, are imfamous for all the guys like him that didn’t come back. I knew that Uncle Bob was in WWII, but I didn’t know a lot about it.

My father was a highly decorated Army Air Corps Medic who served in four theaters of the war. Maybe he overshadowed his younger brother. Or maybe Uncle Bob is just too modest about the contribution that he made.

My first true understanding of these men I’ve known all my life came about while I was doing research for the character named Bud, in my new book LAST DANCE AT JITTERBUG LOUNGE. Let me make it clear, Bud isn’t my Uncle Bob. The old man I created in that story is a composite of a lot of guys of that age and time. The fond memories of days gone by and the scars of events that can’t quite be outlived are both a part of all of them.

This Memorial Day, when laughing and eating and enjoying friends and family, as we rightly should, let’s all do some remembering of those who serve their country in all our conflicts. We do that by being the cheering crowd in the hometown parade and by decorating the graves of the fallen.

I’ll be hanging out with one of the heroes that’s still with us.

Maybe you can find time to do the same. I realize that everyone doesn’t have an Uncle Bob. But just a mile or so from my house is Brook Army Medical Center. Hundreds of men and women are recovering there, rehabilitating themselves for more active duty or a whole new battle completely. Volunteer opportunities abound. I’m sure your own community has its way to say thanks to Vets. We are all so blessed that these people are willing to put themselves in harm’s way. That’s something that can’t be measured into potato salad.

May 14, 2008

Hello, Jaunty Quill Readers.

Since this is my first time here, I’d like to tell you a bit about myself and my work. My name is Kathryn Shay and I’ve written twenty-two books for Harlequin SuperRomance and ten for The Berkley Publishing Group. For most of my life I was a high school English teacher, and began publishing in 1995. I’ll tell you, having two full time jobs for ten years was tough. I also have a wonderful supportive husband (my college sweetheart) and two great kids, now grown, one a writer and one a teacher!

My current release is TAKING THE HEAT, part of the O’Neil series, but one reviewer just said not to worry, she hadn’t read the others (but will now!) and this book functions as a stand alone. It’s the story of widower Liam O’Neil who lost his wife three years ago to cancer and is ready to date again. He meets Sophie Tyler, rough and tumble female firefighter from New York City, and is attracted to her. But his sons are still suffering over the loss of their mother and Liam feels he can’t risk getting involved with someone in a dangerous profession. Too bad, though, because they can’t help themselves and sparks fly, emotionally, physically and on the line.

Why did I write this book? There were several reasons. First, Liam intrigued me. In the other storylines, he’s quiet, sensitive and hurting over the turn his life has taken. He also always does what’s best for his kids, too much so, his dynamic brothers think. It was fun exploring all those facets of Liam, in addition to a sense of humor I didn’t know he had, and, well, a very sexy side, which Sophie soon discovers. That was a big surprise to me and to her and makes for some humor as well as some sizzling sexual tension.

Another reason I wrote about these characters was to explore father/son relationships. The two O’Neil boys, seven year old Mikey and teenager Cleary, play a big part in the book as well as in Liam’s life. Reviewers are pointing to some very tender moments, funny occurrences and some sad things that might bring the reader to tears (I hope so!)

Last, I got to return to my favorite heroes, firefighters. As many of you know, I’ve done several firefighter stories for Harlequin and this is my fourth for Berkley. I researched the profession by spending several years, off and on, riding fire trucks and ambulances, eating in the firehouses, talking at length to the men and women who make up America’s Bravest and reading things like their training manuals on firefighting and EMS. I went to several working fires in places like a dormitory, a kitchen and a car. I rode along to calls for a stabbing, a flooded basement and a roof rescue. I also spent hours and hours at the fire academy training with the recruits, wearing their gear, handling the Jaws of Life and going through mazes blindfolded. I also had the terrifying experience of making my way in a smoke house, which is exactly what you think—a building set on fire so rookies can train. (Okay, a real firefighter was holding my hand the whole time, but still…)

What did I learn: firefighters are taciturn, until you get to know them; they’re affectionate, after they decide you’re okay; they’re funny in a black humor kind of way; they care about people, though not one of them will tell you he thinks he’s a hero. And, in my opinion, these people are a very special breed who put their lives on the line every single day. I love them for who they are and what they stand for. I think you’ll see this in the book, as well as get a look at their everyday lives and experience some heart-stopping action scenes.

I’d be glad to answer questions, give you more information or just listen to what you have to say. And I’ll pick one lucky winner from the comments for an autographed copy of TAKING THE HEAT.

Kathy Shay

May 13, 2008

My life is definitely too busy. I have 7 books checked out from the library, and I’ve only started 3 of them. Plus, I have another I’m halfway through, but it’s not from the library. I should probably put it at the bottom of the stack, but it’s so good!

We’re supposed to go to a party tonight, but I told my husband that if I had my choice I would stay home and write and read. Do you ever want to skip social events and just read? Does that make me anti-social?

I have enough time to write—not as much as I’d like, but enough. But something has to go when I’m writing a book, and since it can’t be my day job and I already only get like 6 hours of sleep, I guess it’s been my reading time.

Do you have enough time to read? What do you do to make more time for reading?

May 12, 2008

That’s right. It’s just about that time. About every six weeks or so DH jets it for work … destination often some really cool places. Today, for instance, he’s headed to L.A. Since he gets to go to places like that for work, I figure I’m entitled to a little guilt-free fun while he’s gone. Especially since he always manages to squeeze in a little fun when he’s away, too. Also, for those who don’t know, like me, DH works from home. We see each other day in and day out. And while we enjoy the arrangement – I mean how many couples get to work from home together? – it’s no hardship when he leaves town. It’s healthy to have a little time apart now and then.

My daughter sees it as a treat, too. She gets to sleep in Mommy’s bed … and well … shhhhh… but if the food’s not too messy, we eat in the living room.

Today’s agenda? After the daughter’s gymnastics, it’s off for Mexican food with a girlfriend and her daughter and - if she’s free - my cp, Tera Lynn Childs. This place has great margaritas, and, perhaps best of all, a sandbox for the girls. The baby can be passed around between me and my gal pals. When I get home, it’s throw kids in the tub, then bed. Then, because DH is out of town, and I have no distractions, it’s uninterrupted writing – which is hugely important right now since I have a book due in July. Actually, even with all the “playing” going on, I get quite a bit of writing done when DH leaves. When the daughter’s at preschool or the baby is napping (which is quite a bit), I work instead of chat it up with DH – remember, he’s hanging about the house with me?

The rest of the week will consist of little to no cooking – which translates to little or no dishes. The laundry, well, it can wait, too. I either eat out with friends (of course, it’s always at the restaurants I love but DH doesn’t!) or a sandwich/leftovers will do nicely for dinner. Somewhere in the week, there will be a run to Barnes N Noble and coffee with some writer friends. Oh, and I manage to watch a movie (either with a friend or by myself) that DH never wants to see. It’s either a romance-ish type period piece – you know, I’ve never seen North and South – that could be a possibility. Or a scary movie (I like scary movies, but not gore-fests. There’s just a difference, you know?!). DH is a big baby when it comes to those. Harry Potter is about as scary as he can handle, and even then I hold his hand. I’ve been itching to see Thirty Days of Nights. Yes, it looks terrifying, but the paranormal writer/reader in me is intrigued at its premise!

What about you? What do you like to do when “the cat’s away”?

Hugs,

Sophie

May 10, 2008

Because Sunday is Mother’s day, I thought it only appropriate to list some words of wisdom from Erma Bombeck.

We all know that being a Mom is the hardest, most rewarding job on the face of this Earth.
“You don’t love me!”

How many times have your kids laid that one on you?

And how many times have you, as a parent, resisted the urge to tell them how much?

Someday, when my children are old enough to understand the logic that motivates a mother, I’ll tell them…

I loved you enough to bug you about where you were going, with whom and what time you would get home.

I loved you enough to insist you buy a bike with your own money, which we could afford, and you couldn’t.

I loved you enough to be silent and let you discover your hand picked friend was a creep.

I loved you enough to stand over you for two hours while you cleaned your bedroom, a job that would have taken me 15 minutes.

I loved you enough to say, “Yes, you can go to Disney World on Mother’s Day.”

I loved you enough to let you see anger, disappointment, disgust, and tears in my eyes.

I loved you enough not to make excuses for your lack of respect or your bad manners.

I loved you enough to admit that I was wrong and ask for your forgiveness.

I loved you enough to ignore “what every other mother” did or said.

I loved you enough to let you stumble, fall, hurt, and fail.

I loved you enough to let you assume the responsibility for your own actions, at 6, 10, or 16.

I loved you enough to figure you would lie about the party being chaperoned, but forgave you for it…after discovering I was right.

I loved you enough to shove you off my lap, let go of your hand, be mute to your pleas and insensitive to your demands…so that you had to stand alone.

I loved you enough to accept you for what you are, and not what I wanted you to be.

But most of all, I loved you enough to say no when you hated me for it. That was the hardest part of all.
Erma Bombeck

My mother (who died in 1990) gave me the gift of self-confidence. She was always my staunchest champion and my best friend. Now, I have the same close relationship with my daughter.

What did your mother teach you?

.

May 9, 2008

For your end of the week pleasure…

Wishing everyone a happy weekend!!!

May 8, 2008

We interrupt your regularly scheduled blog for this special announcement. Let’s all make a toast.

Oops, not that kind of toast, how about this one.

Yes, that’s the right one. All right everyone raise your glass and throw chocolate in the air (the small kind so no one gets hurt) because our very own Anne Mallory is officially a USA Today Bestselling Author. Woot! Woot! Woot!

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog and Margo’s inspiration…

Did I catch your attention? Well, my inspiration is not Fabio. And I have a hard time understanding how he ever made it onto the covers of all those books. Well, I guess those abs and shoulders might have done it … but I don’t think I read a single one of them.

But enough about past cover models.   When I write, I usually have a conglomeration of faces and body types in mind for my main characters … more often, it’s of the hero, although I always have at least a vague notion of who the heroine is. For my next book, Wild, the hero is a young man who was lost in Africa while on safari with his father at age eleven. Twenty years later, he returns to England, and must be taught the ways and manners of polite society. In order to receive his father’s title, he will have to prove that he is truly the heir.

But that’s another post altogether. Anyway, this is the way this hero has gelled in my mind.

He’s rough around the edges when he arrives in London, and it falls to the heroine to tutor him. There are lots of reasons why she’s the one who must do it, and she is none too happy about it.  She has learned to cloak herself in cool propriety in order to protect herself from the injuries the world has caused her,  but his casual attitudes threaten that proper distance she tries to keep between them. 

My wild man has his own issues, too. He can’t let himself trust anyone - after all, in his memory, he was abandoned in Africa, left alone as a mere boy to fend for himself. He developed a strong sense of self-reliance and doesn’t want to trust anyone else. And he doesn’t want to stay in England.

So the question is - will these two be able to overcome their inner fears and fall in love? I’m going to let you find out when Wild is released in January.

May 7, 2008

“I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” — Douglas Adams

I’m on deadline. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining. A deadline, for a writer, means employment. So it’s a good thing, but it’s scary as well. Especially this one, it’s always nerve-wracking turning in that first book to a new editor. I’ve been in that particular scenario three times now. Twice at Avon, and now with my move to Grand Central. You have a whole new learning curve with every editor because they’re all different, they all have their own likes and dislikes and hang-ups. So you essentially start over with every editor. And moving to a new house ups the ante too. Needless to say I’m a mess. A complete ball of nerves. Did I mention I’m not done with the book? And it’s due June 1st?

For the record I’m not a Simpson’s fan (much to The Professor’s annoyance) but this picture was perfect.

Did I also mention that this book is running short? Okay, it’s okay. Deep breaths. Ohm. Ohm. Ohm. Hey, pictures take up a lot of space and I wanted it to look like I really worked on this blog for y’all. But mostly I’m trying to rush right through it and get back to my writing. Wish me luck. And I hope I have new of a completed (and brilliant) book very soon.

In the meantime I’ll give you a topic to discuss amongst yourselves. (Remember that old Saturday Night Live skit with Mike Myers doing Barbra Streisand? The Prince of Thieves is neither about princes nor thieves…discuss…too funny?) Okay what was the first romance novel you read and is it still in your top 5 favorites? Ready…discuss.

May 6, 2008

Ultimate Sportsfan and I had friends coming over for brunch on Sunday, which meant we had to get ready for our guests on Saturday. And of course, that meant cleaning. Lots of cleaning.

I hope I can feel at home confiding to all of you that I don’t clean much. My house isn’t a pigsty or anything. I wipe off the counters, do laundry, run the dishwasher…but the heavy stuff like mopping and dusting and polishing the silver only get done when we have people coming over or I just can’t take it anymore. I’d like to do more cleaning, but the bottom line is that I can either clean or write, and I choose to write.

But Saturday I had no choice but to clean, and I started thinking that, in some ways, cleaning is a lot like writing. See, the thing about cleaning is that the more I clean, the more I see that needs to be cleaned. For example, if I clean the counters and the sink in the kitchen, then the stove looks dirty. Then the refrigerator doesn’t look spiffy. And what about the inside of the refrigerator? And if I’m cleaning in there, I’d better do the inside of the microwave too. And how long has it been since those windows were washed…

I think in the cleaning world this is called the dustball effect.

In the writing world, it’s called overwriting.

Right now I’m on page 354 of a book that really shouldn’t go over 375 pages. I’m generally a pantser, but at the end of a book I try to map everything out clearly to ensure I don’t forget anything and the pacing stays tight.

So after cleaning all day, I sit down to write. I know exactly what scenes I need to write, their purposes, the point of view, everything. And yet, as I write I can’t resist putting little extras in there.

Why not give this character a few lines? Why not throw in another kiss? Why not have the hero talk to his best friend one more time? Pretty soon what should have been 5 pages turns into 12. If I allow myself to do this unchecked, I’ll get 550-page books. I’ve done it in the past. But since I’ve been published and realized that no one is going to buy 550-page books, I’ve tried to save myself the anguish of cutting huge sections and written to publisher guidelines.

And so just like when I’m cleaning, and I think, “Why not pull out all the refrigerator shelves and wash them?”, when I’m writing I have to say, “No, best friend, you can’t have a part in this scene. Or a subplot. Or a love interest.”

Save that for the next book. Or the next Spring cleaning.