RT Report and Images

Some people believe that what happens at RT (Romantic Times Convention, stays at RT. But seriously, what fun would that be for you guys? I mean . . . you wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun, would you?

So here are the highlights. Lots of great writers, just to name a few: Karen Rose, Lori Foster, Lori Wilde, Kate Douglas. Lots of old friends to visit, lots of new friends to make. Lots of readers running around looking for their favorite authors. Lots of workshops to give. Lots of great food to be had at many different restaurants. Lots of booksellers to shout out to. Lots of good wine to be savored while eating great food. Lots of creative energy floating around the hotel from so many writers.

Too many late nights spent giggling in bed—it’s like a spend-the-night party when you have a girlfriend rooming with you—especially after a couple of glasses of wine.

Too many early mornings, especially after wine-induced, late-night giggles. Too many parties to attend while wearing shoes that leave the feet screaming . . . “Where did you put the tennis shoes? Seriously, didn’t you pack the tennis shoes?”

Too many hot-looking, shirtless men. Wait, did I say too many? Can there be too many? I’ll let you be the judge. Here are the pictures I promised from RT.

The Fart Game

Most kids play the fart game. And parents play the fart game, by blaming the kids. Lots of people blame the dog. Well, last week, I was working from home sick, and I'm pretty sure my dog blamed me!

So I'm working at the dining table as usual and there's construction around my house so lots of loud noise. The Sheltie, Bogey, kept jumping up and barking at big trucks passing, etc. and driving me insane, so I finally yelled at him to lay down. So he walked over next to my chair, flopped down on the floor in a huff and let out a loud fart. Then he yanked his head up, eye's wide and stared directly at me like I'd done it. It's official - the dog blamed me for farting.

For any of you who haven't ever seen this video, it never ceases to make me laugh. This goon was a preacher on the air in Dallas and nothing makes me happier that he's gone. Of course, that was after he bilked the elderly and poor people out of their money.

So what about the rest of you - any fart stories you want to share?

Deadly (I-swear-I-didn't-do-it) DeLeon


Farting Preacher 2 - Click here for more amazing videos

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy early Mother’s Day!

It’s my first Mother’s Day as a mom of two, so I’m feeling twice as lucky this year. :) Mr. 10-year-old already gave me his gift… a purse… does he know me or what? He also gave me a set of candlesticks, but he said they are from the baby. Nice of him to help his brother out with a gift like that, huh?

This year I decided to do something different for Mother's Day. In an effort to whip this mommy body back into shape, I’m supposed to run my first 5K on Sunday. Only, I threw my back out holding the wiggly little worm this week. Gah! I’m currently icing and stretching in hopes I’m back together by Sunday. Wish me luck!

As for my own mom, I got a little help from the publishing industry in giving her a Mother’s Day gift this year. A story I wrote about her last year was picked up to be published in the Chicken Soup for the Soul: Thanks Mom: 101 Stories of Gratitude, Love and Good Times book! I’m super excited, and so is she! The story is about her adventures in dating… which are almost as wacky as mine were! (Almost. So far she has found any bodies in closets or dated any pirates.)


Anyone else have fun plans for Mother’s Day?

~Trigger Happy halliday

Week Three: Bullet Hole's Great Agent Search

Okay, so I'm not this desperate. Yet. But agents beware: it may come to this.

After moving on from the train wreck my first conversation with Super Agent Number One turned out to be, I pulled myself up and retooled my query and continued down my list sending out a e:query to my next potential victim...er prospect. I've yet to hear 'boo' in response to my e:query. Of course, it's only been two weeks. Maybe they're on vacation. Maybe they've been admited to the hospital. Or in the middle of some very major negotiations for a very big-name client. Or...maybe the agent got wind of my prior 'performance' and decided to take a pass.

Me? I'm going for the auction excuse.

And so the pursuit continues.

Last week after blogging I took time to write first chapters for two projects that had been simmering on the back burner for sometime. Both projects are, I think, high-concept and just a little bit 'out there'. In other words exactly what you'd expect from the author of CALAMITY JAYNE. And speaking of good ol' Tressa Jayne, she's started to whisper in my ear again and she's telling me she's ready for another misadventure. So, I've also been working on a seventh Calamity Jayne mystery proposal to include in the new query package I plan to send via snail mail this week to lucky Super Agent number 2. More on the CJ angle soon. I'm having trouble coming up with a title for this book and I've never written a book without at least having a working title and don't want to jinx myself (God knows I don't need any more bad karma) so I'll be asking for title suggestions soon.

Meanwhile, today I'll be moving the 'boy' back from college so that will zap most of my time. But tomorrow I'll be back at the computer fine-tuning the new project material, double-checking the finished stuff, revamping my query, and mailing off a Priority Envelope to the newest agent of my dreams.

No hill for a hill climber.

Oh, and I just learned Romance Writers of America's National Conference which was scheduled to take place in Nashville (big hugs to everyone in that water-ravaged city) July 28-31 is moving to The Walt Disney Swan and Dolphin Resort in Orlando. I've been checking airline fares and this unexpected turn of events has almost got me reconsidering my decision not to attend. Sounds like a fabulous time after the winter we just survived. How about you? Does this change in conference location alter anyone else's plan to attend or not to attend RWA National? I'm still 'on the fence'. Still, I figured what better place to stalk...that is, connect with potential agents?

Later!

~Bullet Hole~

A Really Long Post About 12 Year Old Girls...

It's a 12yr old's birthday with 6 girls, I think, what could go wrong?

Well, okay, so nothing went wrong, per se. It was a drama-packed party. The trip to the mall was interesting because 1) I misjudged the number of girls to seats in the van ratio - forcing one child to sit on the floor in the back (do not turn me in...it will make me angry) and 2) I heard things like this, "Shut up EVERYONE! I have something important to say!" (car goes quiet) "Bananas are an excellent source of pottasium!"

My friend, Michele, went with me and was a good sport considering she is used to boys and not girls. These particular girls have been in my girl scout troop since kindergarten, so I was prepared for the occaisional dramatic "emergency." In fact, we were shopping in Dillards (and doing quite well, I might add) when we got this text message; (all of the following is text except for Michele's comments. Apparently, I read each one aloud - go figure)

Meg: We have a problem.



Me: What?



Meg: Well, um, Kelly 1 and 2 are mad at us.



Me: Why?



Meg: Bcuz of bathroom confusion.



Me: Bathroom confusion?



Meg: Meet us outside jcpenney.



Me: (in no hurry to leave really cute sweater set) What happened?



Michele: Shouldn't we go see what happened?



Me: Oh no. It will change in 2 minutes and I have to buy this cute tote bag.



Meg: Kelly had to go to the bathroom really bad but we made her wait and she just went with Kelly anyway and we didn't all stay together and we found each other and now we are all mad.



Me: Um, okay. So don't be mad. It's a party.



Michele: Are you sure we shouldn't go?



Me: (looking at the most adorable shoes) Nah. They probably worked it out during the course of that overly long text.



Meg: Well, they ignored us earlier for about an hour.



Me: Are you all together?



Meg: No. Kelly 1 and 2 just left.



Me: (Actually taking an interest now) What? You were supposed to stay together!



Michele (from dressing room): Maybe we should go...



Me: No. It's okay. I have Kelly 2's cell number. Dammit, she's ignoring the calls. (Texting) Kelly, reply to this message or I call your mom.



Kelly 2: Okay.



Me: Make up, okay? It's a party for christsake.



Kelly 2: We are back with them.



Meg: Kelly 1 just told us if she had her period she would've killed us.



Me: Um, what?



Meg: Kelly 1 is now crying! JUST COME PLEASE!



Michele (emerging from the dressing room in a very flattering red blouse): She's crying? Maybe we should go.



Me (shoving her back inside to try green shirt): They cry all the time.



Meg: KELLY 1 IS CRYING AND ITS A DISASTER!



Me (to Michele): Hey, she used all caps this time.



Michele: Okay, let's just go.



Me: Trust me, it will be fine by the time we get there.



Meg: Kelly 1 won't come with us and Kelly 3 is throwing up in the bathroom.



Me: Kelly 3 always throws up when she eats weird combinations. (Looking at Michele) Fine. Meet us at Younkers.



Meg: No, meet us at jcpenney.



Me: (sigh of a thousand martyrs) Fine.





By the way, when we got there, they were all best friends again. Imagine that? I never did find out what was meant by "bathroom confusion," although maybe that's for the best. When I asked them what the whole thing was all about, they didn't know.



The rest of the night passed in a blur, basically because of one very yummy bottle of Malbec.



The piece de la resistance came at 2am. I woke up to find six girls standing over me.



Me: Yes?



Kelly 2: Do we have anymore duct tape? We used it all.





A few hours later they woke me again.



Kelly 3: I made a list of the 19 different donuts you can get us at Dunkin' Donuts.



Me: Wow. There really are 19 different donuts here. Wait, what does "NO CAKE" here in pink mean?



Kelly 3: No cake donuts. The other kind.



Me: Aren't all donuts cake?



All girls: NO!





To their credit, I handed the list they made to the kid behind the counter and he said he could do it. I threw in a couple of "cake" chocolate donuts for me. After all, I think I earned it.





Here's what they were doing with the duct tape:





They were duct taping each other into Meg's new tv box and sliding whoever was inside all over the house.

I can NOT make this stuff up, people.

-The Assassin

Guest Blogger Tracy Madison

Good morning! Well, I’m back from RT – had a blast visiting with old friends and making some new ones. I’ll give you the lowdown next week--with pictures of some hot guys. Today, Killer Fiction is thrilled to have Tracy Madison with us to talk about writing routines, plotters and writing by the seat of your pants. Sounds like a great topic!

And now for some great news to go with that great topic: Tracy is giving away a copy of A Breath of Magic to one lucky commenter, so please post a comment. Also, go check out Tracy’s website and read about the Month of Mysticism she’s running between April 26 and May 31st.

CC

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Routines, Plotters, and Writing by the Seat of your Pants

I’m often asked what my writing routine is by non-writer friends and family members. Usually, my husband is with me when this question is asked, and he also gets the same question. You see, I’m not the only writer in my house. Huh-uh. One crazy person isn’t enough for my family. My husband’s (Jim N. Duncan) first book (an urban fantasy with a really cool new take on vampires) will be out in 2011 from Kensington Publishing.

So there are two of us insane people in my family.

In the same house.

In the same freaking office.

TWO WRITERS SHARING THE SAME SPACE.

And guess what? Our writing routines couldn’t be more different.

My husband, bless his little heart, is a PLOTTER. So for him, answering the question “What is your writing routine?” is simple for other folks to understand. He figures out the story—every single aspect of the story—before he begins writing. This man, the man I chose to marry, plans every scene and what is going to be asked/revealed in that scene before he begins writing even once measly sentence of the story.

And I sort of want to smack him. Sometimes. Every now and then. Not that often at all, really.

Because I am not a pre-plotter. Oh, I know bits and pieces. I know my characters. I know the journey of the story. But how I’m going to get from Point A to Point B to Point C is a mystery until I get there. Heck, half the time all I know about the conclusion is “They will be in love and live happily-ever-after!” Yeah. Try writing a synopsis with that.

So, I get frustrated when I try to explain my routine/process/whatever-you-want-to-call-it, because what I do is more along the lines of instinctive writing. I start off with some basics, very, very basics, and then I start to write. I am quite methodical, however, as I don’t jump around in the story. I write in a very linear fashion. Scene one to scene two to scene three, etc. But I always get to a place where I have to stop. And think. And re-read what I’ve already done. And then think some more.

My husband, on the other hand, once he’s done with the plotting stage, just writes. His forward motion continues from that point with nary a bump in the road. Because he not only knows his destination, he knows every twist and turn on the way. So yes, when I’m in the middle of writing a book, and I’m staring at the same page for months and months (oh, okay, hours), and he’s over there typing away, I want to pick up a pen or a pencil and toss it at him. You know, just to stop the typing. For a few minutes, at least. J

But the truth is, no matter how frustrating my “routine” is, it’s mine. It’s what works for me. And yeah, it isn’t always easy, but I can’t change the type of writer I am. My husband can’t either. He attempted to go the “organic” writing route once, by plotting the story to the mid-point, thinking he’d have enough information in his head to write the rest of the book without the plot already figured out.

But guess what? He couldn’t. He was completely stalled and couldn’t write another word.

I admit I found this humorous. What? A wife can’t laugh at her husband? He laughs at me!

The point of this is that writers are unique. Every single one of us. We each take a different path to put our stories down, and none of those paths are wrong. For me, my best ideas don’t come to me before I write a book, they come to me while I’m writing. When I consider some of the amazing moments in my stories—moments I never would have thought of before I started writing the book—I can’t complain. Well, I can’t complain too much.

So yeah, there are days where Mr. Plotter is pounding away at his keyboard and I’m stuck. Where I’m frozen, staring at my screen with a tight, scary, suffocating pressure in my chest, wondering if this is the book that will not be finished. But then, somehow, I remember the type of writer I am, and that my stories evolve differently than his. And that’s okay. Because my way, as difficult as it can be, often feels like magic.

For example, my newest release, A Breath of Magic, is bar-none the most difficult book I’ve written to this day. And while there are a lot of external reasons that played into this difficulty, I also had a hard time connecting with my heroine, Chloe. And for me, that is the worst thing that can happen. My stories evolve from character. So it took me a while to really dig in and understand Chloe’s journey. But once I did, the story evolved beautifully. So much so, that A Breath of Magic has a special place in my heart, and now, it’s my favorite of the three.

And, at the end of the day, I’m not willing to give this type of magic up. Huh-uh.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not practicing my aim.

* * * *

Christie here again. I have a teaser for next week's blog - a pic I took at RT during the 2010 Mr. Romance Cover Model contest. Woo hoo!

Choosing a Mate

On a freelance writer's forum last week, someone brought up the topic of how to talk to women on a dancefloor, as they were writing an article on the topic. The writer said that despite a lot of research, all they could find was trite stupid one-liners and gimmicks, but nothing substantial. Which, of course, led to the topic of how one meets a mate and how one makes themself attractive to a mate, especially men.

One young guy on the forum (who is a real sweetie) said, "It's really simple. You say 'I've got a job and I don't live with my parents.'" Of course, I had to laugh, because, well, he's got a point. But then that brought us around to how many people marry for reasons other than love. How many people are looking for a paycheck or safety, etc. Now mind you, security is not a bad thing, but I think it's bad if you marry someone who loves you and you ONLY marry them to take care of you. That's one-sided and bound to be a disappointment to your spouse over time.

I had a co-worker years ago that told me when she started dating a guy, she asked herself two things:

How would her furniture look in his house? and
If she died in a tragic plane crash would he dress their children stupid?

As a romance writer, clearly none of the above named reasons are enough for a reader to buy into the romance between hero and heroine, but I wonder if society's standards are so skewed, weird or simply low.

What do you think?

Deadly DeLeon