Elizabeth Ponders Salmon

It’s probably because I’m less than 6 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes from going fishing in Alaska—oh yes, I’m counting!—but I find myself thinking more about salmon and less about plot development.

Wild Pacific salmon.

Beautiful, powerful, predatory.

Delicious.

Food of the gods.

With salmon bright and cold from the sea, all you need is a fire to make a divine meal. And if you’re into sushi, all you really need is a sharp knife.

Yet even nectar gets boring if you have it day in, day out, no time off for plain old water or tea or coffee or soda.

Most often, we have salmon filet marinated in fresh lemon juice, fresh ground black pepper, extra virgin olive oil, and then grilled until just barely done over a charcoal fire. A minute before taking the fish off the heat, Evan spreads a thin coating of pesto over the flesh side of the filet. (Naturally, homemade pesto is best, but face it, fresh basil isn’t always available. Neither is kitchen time.)

We’re going to Alaska to fish twice this year. Even with our friends and family lined up to help us out, that’s a lot of fish.

And like I said about nectar…


So do you have any favorite salmon recipes you’d like to share?

Jayne Asks Elizabeth the Oldest Writing Question in the Universe

(If you're wondering where your comments went, ask Elizabeth, aka the fastest fingers in the West. Fair warning, she may just growl at you --Cissy, aka long-suffering webgoddess)

Jayne: I'm a huge fan so I'll just gush a little first. ALWAYS TIME TO DIE is my favorite kind of story -- stone-cold suspense and sizzling love. The genealogy background was absolutely fascinating, by the way, so I'm going to ask the traditional reader question (but you gotta promise not to hit me). Where did you get the idea?

Elizabeth: Sure I can’t hit you? I’d be gentle. Really.

Jayne: Get over it. What inspires you is the first thing people want to know you about your books.

Elizabeth: Basically, I’m a science freak. I read non-fiction to relax. I've been fascinated by DNA since scientists began using it to trace the most probable geographic source of homo sapiens. When I started looking into mtDNA—the part you get only from your mother—the possibilities for rattling skeletons in family closets were just too delicious not to pursue. Same for Y-DNA, which you get only from your father.

In other words, if your mtDNA doesn’t match your mother’s she isn’t your biological mother. Ditto for dad.

No matter what they told you and each other.

Jayne: Sheesh. Makes you wonder why people want to know about personal genealogy in the first place.

Elizabeth: Exactly. Just keep in mind that your ancestors were people too. Their lives weren't lived just to be certain that YOU someday would be born. If it would upset you to find out that the people whose genes you carry weren't saints and 1,000% upright citizens, then don't go asking questions.

Jayne: But your heroine, Carly, asks those kind of questions for a living.

Elizabeth: In ALWAYS TIME TO DIE, Carly finds the kind of answers worth killing to hide. Fortunately she also finds Dan Duran, a man haunted by the past. A man who already knows about wrong questions, lethal answers, local people, and the kind of history which is told only in silence.

When Dan can’t talk Carly out of pursuing the Quintrell family history, he joins her on what becomes a deadly quest for truth. Together they learn that nothing is what it first appears, including each other.

And at the end of fear and death, lies and truth, they find what neither of them was looking for—love.

Jayne: Great answer; great book! Nobody does romantic-suspense like you do, Liz.

Elizabeth: Liz? Liz? Did you just call me Liz?

Jayne: What? You prefer Betty? Betsy? Here, have a nice cup of tea while I tell everyone that ALWAYS TIME TO DIE is now out in paperback. Readers should run, not walk to the nearest bookstore or click on one of the handy-dandy links below.

Elizabeth: Hmm. Betsy Lowell. Well, I suppose it has possibilities...if I were writing mysteries solved by cats.

It Men--A Poll

What is "It?"

People, in particular men in this case, have some mysterious "its" that have power over others (women in this case:). There are sensations, emotional and physical, that are evoked in us and not simply because someone is gorgeous. Often the person who demands our attention is physically plain, but there is something, there is "it."

I picked out a few men who are frequently mentioned as being in the "it" category. Your special McDreamy may not be here, but you should be able to find someone to interest you...

George Clooney	Christian Slater	Isaiah Washington
Hugh Jackman	Johnny Depp	Antonio Banderas
Denzel Washington	Val Kilmer	Russell Crowe
Pierce Brosnan	BradPitt	Tom Cruise

If you can pick one of these gentlemen as your standout, please let us know--preferably with an attempt to explain what reaction you have to him, what his special qualities are--as far as you are concerned.

The votes will be counted!

May the rains not fall on you,

Stella

Suzanne cooks up A QUILL QUICKIE

Some of the Quills are wizards in the kitchen; some aren’t. Not that we're naming names.

Anyway, we understand grills (not Quills) are out all over the nation as we celebrate this holiday weekend. So, the Quill (not the grill) Question is: What do you consider your pièce de résistance in the kitchen?

STELLA offers her fabulous dessert: ORANGES COINTREAU

6 large oranges.
Vanilla bean ice cream.
Orange sherbet.
Jelly of choice.
Cointreau (or Triple Sec--it's cheaper)

MERENGUE TOPPING

4 egg whites.
Pinch cream of tartar.
1/2 c sugar.

BRANDY

Slice off enough of bottoms of oranges to make them balance on a platter. Slice off tops of oranges and take out pulp. Line insides of oranges with vanilla ice cream around 1/2" thick. Put a small amount of jelly and Cointreau (or Triple Sec) at the inner bottoms. Fill rest of space with orange sherbet. Freeze until you're ready to serve.

Egg whites and cream of tartar should be beaten stiff, then sugar added slowly and whole mixture beaten stiff again. Heap meringue on top of oranges and be careful to seal off the ice cream/sherbet filling. Evenly space oranges on knock-em-dead platter, warm the brandy a bit, set it on fire and pour over oranges at the table.

This dessert is guaranteed to bring a giant chorus of, "Ooh!" and really finishes things off nicely when served following my favorite Zeek's Green Froggy pizza. Do check on how much time to allow for pizza delivery and don't light the brandy for the oranges too soon. Remove pizza box from table before setting brandy afire.


LORI dishes:

Truthfully, I used to have a whole file folder full of recipes that could have been my pièce de résistance. I was Martha Stewart. I created, baked, decorated and served with flair. At holidays, our table and countertops were overrun with cookies of every variety and flavor. I made my own nutty buns. I rolled out my own pie crusts. There was no recipe too tough for me to tackle.

My how times have changed! These days, most of our meals are left in the pots and we circle the stove to fill our plates. Dessert is a ready made pie that I personalize by baking it myself. The only homemade cake is one my husband favors, that he makes for the boys when they come home.But there is still one particular cake that I sometimes make for specialguests. I'm talking really, really special guests, not your run of themill important people. It's a white chocolate cake, and it's super rich and yummy.

Set the oven at 350 degrees. Oil and flour two 9" round cake pans.

Ingredients:

3/4 to 1lb of white chocolate -- 1/2 and 1/2
1 C butter
3/4 C buttermilk
2 Cs sugar
1 C powdered sugar, give or take (for frosting)
4 eggs, separated
1 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 C flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 C chopped pecans
1 C coconut

Cream together butter, sugar and egg yolks; add vanilla and mix; add half of melted white chocolate (cooled) and mix. Mix together baking powder and flour; add to the butter, sugar, egg yolks mixture until smooth alternately add in the buttermilk, egg whites, pecans and coconut. Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

NOTE: cake is *very* heavy and won't rise much at all. Remove cakes from oven and let cool.

Melt remaining white chocolate, let cool, then add in powdered sugar (and maybe a few tsps of milk) until smooth spreading consistency. Frost cake. Enjoy!


JAYNE shares:

I have recently discovered some great new veggies. They are sold here in Seattle at the Pike Place Market as "Garlic Spears" and I'm probably the last person on the face of the earth to find them.

Garlic spears are the flower tops from Elephant Garlic and they are fabulous either alone or roasted together with asparagus. They don't actually taste much like garlic and don't leave the after taste (or the after breath, for that matter). They have become a great addition to the Frank Diet and they don't require any tofu!

Roasted Garlic Spears & Asparagus Frank

Rinse half a pound of garlic spears

Prep half a pound of asparagus by rinsing and snapping off woody ends of stems

Dry garlic spears and asparagus on paper towels. Toss asparagus and garlic spears with olive oil and salt and spread out on baking sheet. Roast at 350 degrees until asparagus is fork tender. Timing depends on thickness of asparagus. If you are using thick asparagus (or "fat grass" as they say down at the Market) give them a four minute headstart in the oven before adding the garlic spears which are much thinner and will cook in about four
or five minutes.


ELIZABETH tells all:

I'm good with fresh seafood. Clams steamed in garlic and wine and herbs, scampi over white basmati rice (garden parsley adds a wonderful savor), Maine lobster (steamed--why screw up a great thing?), prawns, mussels in herb cream sauce.

Recipes? Um, I'm too lazy to follow a recipe. Don't use them. I sniff the seafood, sniff available herbs, sniff various wines, decide if lemon or lime would be good, olive oil or butter, steam or saute, AND NEVER EVER EVER OVERCOOK THE SEAFOOD.


SUZANNE confesses:

Does making a great cup of tea count? My skills in the kitchen can best be summed up by this piece of T-shirt wisdom: “Many people have eaten my cooking and gone on to lead normal lives.”


So what's in your kitchen or on your grill this holiday weekend?

Elizabeth Gets Excited About Ghost Hunter

Elizabeth: *doing the bootie shake of joy* FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY! Another Jayne Castle futuristic novel! Not that I’m a fan or anything like that, just her BIGGEST, MOST LOYAL—

Jayne: *smacks Elizabeth with a cold washcloth*

Elizabeth: *shakes head* Right. Thanks. I’m okay now. Ahem, as I was saying, I love your books under the Castle name—psychic romantic suspense with an out-of-this-world twist.

Jayne: Welcome back to my other world, Harmony. Local Guild boss and powerful ghost-hunter, Cooper Boone is everything botanist Elly St. Clair thought she wanted in a husband -- until she finds out the hard way that he's been keeping some dark Guild secrets. When the truth hits the morning papers, her career at the college hits the skids. Furious, she calls off the engagement, gives Cooper a piece of her mind and his ring and heads off for the big city, putting her small-town life in the rearview mirror.

Elizabeth: *rubs hands in glee* Oh, yeah, Elly is in BIG trouble. Your heroines don’t dump your heroes without peril—especially when the hero is a ghost hunter!

Jayne: Starting over in the thriving metropolis of Cadence actually goes fairly well for a while. Elly's got a new job, a new pet named Rose (who is very fond of jewelry) and a new wardrobe. (Let's just say her skirts are a lot shorter now and her heels are a lot higher). She has also sampled some of the big city nightlife, places like the Road to the Ruins, a dangerous nightclub where the patrons come to get buzzed on the psychic emanations from the ruins of an ancient alien civilization.

Elizabeth: Not bad for a LBH (little brown hen) who cancelled a marriage and took off for the bright lights of the big city.

Jayne: Not bad at all. Unfortunately trouble is coming. One of Elly's new friends has disappeared into the eerie, glowing green catacombs beneath the city streets. Elly is a powerful, highly unusual psychic. She knows that she is the only one who can go to the rescue. But she also knows she needs backup. Those underground tunnels are teeming with spooky hazards. What she needs is a ghost-hunter. And it just so happens that Cooper Boone is in town. Seems he's come looking for his runaway fiancée...

Elizabeth: Hoo-yah. Guess Elly finally got his attention.

Jayne: Big-time. And she's about to find out that the old saying is true, be careful what you wish for...

Elizabeth: Readers, run, don't walk to your nearest bookstore to pick up your copy of GHOST HUNTER. Or buy it online at any of the links below. *Races off to get one. Or three. Books wear out so fast these days!*

Jayne: One word of warning: GHOST HUNTER has been arriving in stores in a somewhat erratic fashion. You might want to call first, just to make sure it is in stock...

Squawk Radio Invades!

As many of you know, yesterday, the Quills — along with the help of notorious (and traitorous) rogue reporter Kitty Kuttlestone — managed a coup of unprecedented proportions. They hijacked the enormously popular writers’ blog Squawk Radio while the Squawk chicks were out performing selfless good deeds to make the world a better place. So today, the Chicks are invading Quills turf. And we’re not leaving until our demands are met. We want changes in the Romance industry, and we want them NOW. And while we’re waiting, we’ve got a little work to do on the Running with Quills site.

Okay, let’s get this show on the road. Eloisa, start painting this elegant black border puce. Xtina, paste those Fabio covers on all the Quills books. Connie, find Kitty and put those fur-lined handcuffs to good use. Lisa, start brushing that blue eye shadow on the Quills’ publicity pics. And for the piece de résistance, Terri, break out the Donny Osmond posters. Me, I’m gonna mix us up a big pitcher of Mai-Tais. We’re gonna need our strength.
—Elizabeth Bevarly


Teresa Medeiros says, "KILL ME OR KISS ME BUT PLEASE DON'T BORE ME!"

I've always said that I love to both read and write books where the hero and heroine are always on the verge of either killing or kissing each other, but I think that's just my way of saying I love a healthy dose of passion in my romances. I once had a conversation with a writer friend who said she believed a romance should end with the hero and heroine both realizing that they COULD live without each other but that their lives would be immeasurably enhanced if they ended up together. How very mature! How very enlightened! How very...dull! I knew in that moment that her future didn't lie in romance and shortly after that she ended up leaving romance and establishing a very successful career in women's fiction.

And this is why — because the most powerful and primal theme in classic romance is, "I would die without you." Without Beauty, the Beast is left writhing about in the garden, clutching the rose Beauty gave him as he gasps his last breath. Without that prim spinster or bubbly belle to win his heart and save his soul, our dissolute rake is doomed to spend his life in the empty pursuit of pleasure, perishing of liver failure or syphilis in some London gutter.

You can diss some of the early books in our genre for their "politically incorrect" sexuality (which is sort of wickedly delicious in retrospect), but you can't deny that there was passion on every page. There was something eternal at stake and that something was a heart, a life, and perhaps even an immortal soul.

Eloisa James says, “IMO, TSTL!”

I'm putting my demand right out there. I'm sick of heroines who are so wildly intelligent that they are writing pamphlets that will help the future Darwin at the same time that they blaze trails through the marriage market and -- in their spare time -- do a little jewelry thieving to benefit the poor, spending their nights dancing over the roofs of London.

What ever happened to the good, old TOO STUPID TO LIVE heroine?

I loved her! BRING HER BACK!

I demand a woman who wanders into the medieval warlord's castle, nearly gets run over and shot about fourteen times, has no idea of the complexities of warfare but manages to tell the hero exactly where to go when he tries to do something underhanded, tames all 14 feral dogs, and brings peace and prosperity to all of England. By being goofy and silly and virginal and all that stuff.

I want the kind of story where the big, mean warlord is so whipped by his wife that he melts at her smile--even though he thought she was too stupid to survive, and so did all his mean, nasty male cohorts.

I'm sorry...I'm a professor and I'd rather my daughter got a college degree...but those were GREAT STORIES!

Elizabeth Bevarly Says, “BRING BACK THE ADVENTURE!”

When I first started reading romance novels, they were filled with intrepid adventures in exotic locales. There were archaeological digs in Denmark. Trips down the Amazon. Banking wars in Hong Kong. Haunted castles in Scotland. Yachting in the Mediterranean. Shipwrecks in the Caribbean. And that was just in the short category romances. In historicals, heroines were escaping the life of a concubine in China or a harem in Arabia. There were lady pirates in the South Pacific, antiquities hunters in Egypt and assassins in Renaissance Italy. Elephant safaris through sun-splashed India and treks across snow-covered Russia. Even here in the States (what few we had back then), there were sweet southern ladies bringing Yankees to their knees and scrappy colonial women turning into spies to help sink the Brits in the Revolutionary War. And I miss the pioneering spirit of the Westerns.

These days, the greatest adventure romance heroes and heroines are allowed to have is driving without a seatbelt. Oh, no, wait. They can’t do that, either. It might set a bad example. Look, I like ranchers and corporate raiders as much as the next chick, but come on. Where’s the adventure? Where’s the excitement? Where, dammit, is the ROMANCE of romance? In literary circles, IVANHOE is considered a romance. So is MOBY DICK. And that’s because of the larger-than-life adventures that occur in both those books. What happened to today’s romances? How come nobody gets to travel outside American or British borders anymore? How come nobody gets to live dangerously? What happened to all the fun? I want adventure put back into romance!

Of course, the Squawkers (contrary to some people’s beliefs) are not fools. We left half our trusty chicks to guard the Squawk fortress. And naturally, they have demands to make, too — they’re very demanding women. So visit http://www.squawkradio.com to read Lisa Kleypas, Christina Dodd and Connie Brockway express themselves rather forcefully (like they know any other way to express themselves) on the changes they want in Romance.

I mean, in romance books.

Yes, Kitty, you may pour me another Mai-Tai.

No, you may not stick your straw in the pitcher.

We're in! We've done it! We've taken Over Squawk Radio!!!!

We've done it!! The Quills have hit the big time. We've taken over www.squawkradio.com. In the world of blogging it doesn't get any better than this. Check it out!!!!

Things I Enjoyed Most at the RT Convention.

I'm a dud. Really.
While everyone else is charging from one event to the next, I'm...
Yeah. Yawning. Sleeping. It's sad. And embarrassing.

RT puts on this great convention full of parties and activities and I usually spend a lot of time hiding in my room, napping, or just putting my feet up.
You'd think I was pushing 85 instead of closing in on 50 with my lack of energy.

My only excuse is that it's an intimidating thing to see so many people who know your name, when you can't pull a single name, not even your own, out of your tired brain. I see people heading for me, and I feel like...
That way, I can't offend anyone with my terrible memory.


Once long ago at a forgotten convention I saw a button that said, "That's Okay. I don't remember your name either." I need one of those!
There seems to be some mental block for me when it comes to crowds and loud noises.
But hey, I'm a writer.

I spend a lot of time in noise of my own making - like my music choices and the sounds of my dogs snoring. It's no wonder the chaos gets to me.
So why do I attend the huge, wild, bursting-with-non-stop-activities RT Convention?

Here are just a few of the things I really enjoy.

This is me with the lovely Rosemary Potter
(in pink) of Rosemary's Romance Books
in Brisbane Australia. Rosemary does an incredible
job of selling our books, and she's so fun and
enthusiastic that seeing her is a major lure.
It feels like I've know Rosemary forever, and now she's
not just a bookseller to me. She's a friend.





Since Rosemary isn't the only Aussie to make the long trek over for the festivities, Kathryn Falk hosted a party for them, and I was honored with an invitation. (It was a morning party, so I was actually awake and happy to attend!) So fun!
The Aussie booksellers are generous, kind, and hilarious, and they bring the authors those delicious chocolate TimTams! Great nibbles for the flight home.

Here's a group of us posing for the camera at the Australian gathering.

That's me in white, sans hat. Behind me is the super sweet and very talented author Karen Kelley, then the incomparable Katheryn Falk of RT fame, followed by Rosemary Potter, then good friend and amazing author Rosemary Laurey, and another Aussie bookseller whose name I have shamefully forgotten already. (See above paragraph about my awful memory!)
Mugging for the camera is a given if you attend the convention. At times, my mouth will begin to twitch from so much smiling!

Now, if you're wondering about those bright pink hats the ladies are wearing, or the festive yellow shirts, thank my best friend Dianne Castell. She's a writing dynamo who passes out goodies from one end of the convention to the other. Dianne, Rosemary Laurey and Karen Kelley have an incredible anthology titled Texas Bad Boys coming out in September, thus the cowboy hats, and the shirts with the cover printed on them. (It is a smashing cover, by the way.)

And see the water bottles in Dianne's hands? Ha! You should have seen her room! Boxes of water bottles filled it. I doubt anyone left Daytona without a Texas Bad Boy water bottle.


(This is Dianne handing out more water bottles,
and Rosemary is thinking of other people
they can give them to. )





Hanging out with author friends who I don't get to see as often as I see Dianne is the biggest plus. Because writing is a solitary biz, we all chat online a lot, but it's so nice to sit down face-to-face and catch up on who's publishing what and where, and when the books will be out.
I get such a kick out of my friends, how different they are from me, and how alike they are.



One way we differ is that that most of my friends
have a lot more energy than I do! Here's a photo
of good friends LuAnn McLane and
Janice Maynard snuggled up to a cover
model at one of the parties.
Go ladies, go!
I think this particular party was the Fairy Ball - see
LuAnn's tiara?


Here we are at breakfast on the patio, with the surf behind us, dining with some of those lovely Aussie booksellers and a few of my published friends.











In the first photo, the yellow shirt is Rosemary Laurey, and next to her is LuAnn McLane. That's me in black. Yeah, I'm usually in black. My wardrobe mostly consists of black, white and blue jean.
In the second photo, the yellow shirt is Dianne Castell and behind her is Janice Maynard, and then Karen Kelley.
The rest of the smiling faces are Aussie booksellers.

The booksigning, which lasted 4 1/2 hours, afforded another opportunity to visit with reading and writing friends, and then Dianne and I headed home. Traveling with Dianne is wonderful. We get along so well and usually keep each other laughing.

Did I mention the convention was in Daytona Beach this year?

I left the cool rainy days of Ohio for sunshine, surf and sand. It was heavenly. I got out for several walks in the early evening, and when I was in my room, I kept the curtains and balcony door open to relish the fresh air and sounds of the ocean.

I think I'll leave you with an image of the beach from my room.
The sunset and sunrise was truly lovely.












So you see, even as a non-partier, I had a great time at the RT bash. There's always something for everyone, even a party pooper like me.

What part of the convention do you love best?
(If you've never been, what part do you think you'd love best?)
Meeting authors.
Meeting online friends.
Free books! (Did I mention that a lot of the publishers have small signings where their author autograph free books for you?)
Parties, parties and more parties.
Cover models.
Workshops on everything from writing to psychic talents and more.
Promo material goodies.
Location - like the beach at Daytona.

Whatever your choices, every reader and writer should attend an RT Convention. It's an experience you won't soon forget!

Hugs to everyone!

READY?

Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty

I have something beautiful for the, um, beautiful (?) Kitty.

Guess who is serving the blue vampire specials?

But only to special friends.

Wanna be a special friend?

*brought to you by Elizabeth's evil twin*

A Tale of Bribery, Betrayal & Blogging...

Note: The following information is CLASSIFIED, TOP SECRET, FOR YOUR EYES ONLY. It is intended to be read only by loyal visitors to this blog site. All other visitors -- especially certain bloggers who sneak over here from Squawk Radio (you know who you are) -- will, if caught, be confined in a small, sealed room and forced to listen to twelve other writers tell you all about their latest plots for twenty-four hours straight.

Attention Loyal Blog Visitors, here is the Top Secret lowdown: On Tuesday, May, 23rd the Quills will take over Squawk Radio (www.squawkradio.com).

Yes, friends and neighbors, we've had it up to here with those flashy Squawkers and their glitzy, high-profile, in-your-face blogging. Yes, we know Squawk Radio is hot. We know it has become the Number One blog spot for those who read romance and romantic-suspense. Sheesh, how could it fail, given the impressive list of writers who blog there: Christina Dodd, Teresa Medeiros, Eloisa James, Lisa Kleypas, Elizabeth Bevarly, Connie Brockway and the fabulous Kitty Kuttlestone.

But the Quills are determined to make it into the Big Time and on Tuesday, we're making our move. The Squawkers won't know what hit 'em. We're going to show them some real classy blogging. We're going to let 'em see us Blog with Style. On Tuesday we're going to be all over that Squawk blog like hair on a turtle. Or something.

How did we arrange this clever coup? Let's just say we had INSIDE HELP. A certain tattooed, pierced, tequila-swigging chicken in five-inch stilettos whose name must remain secret (okay, okay, so her name is Kitty) let it be known that she was open to a bribe. The Quills, never ones to ignore a golden opportunity, immediately issued her an invitation to a Green Ghost Margarita party. Kitty showed up on our doorstep dripping in rhinestones and leather and the rest is history. More or less.

If you want to see the results of this Top Secret operation, check out www.squawkradio.com on Tuesday.

The blogosphere will never be the same...

ALWAYS A WINNER!

Lori won the Lifetime Achievement Award at RT:)

Lori rambles on author/reader relationships

As the new kid on the block, this will be my first blog. What to say, what to say? Wellll....

Stella’s wonderful introduction reminded me how long it’s been since I first published back in 1996. In some ways it feels like yesterday and in others, I feel like I’ve always done this. And maybe I did. I know that as a kid, I lacked a peer group. I was the odd duck who daydreamed too much, worried about everyone else too much, and couldn’t bear to be in a “click.” It wasn’t until many moons later when I started writing that I found my closest friends.

I’m thinking maybe that’s because writers share a love of certain things. You know, writerly things - like words, animals and... office-supply stores.

Okay, so words are a given. Discovering just the right word to enhance a sentence, set a scene, or describe a character is bliss. The type of bliss that other writers understand.

Pets really seem to factor in, too. Almost all my writer friends have their little fur babies. We often write with a pet close by, snoring to distraction, sleeping on our foot until it’s numb, or sprawled dangerously close to the keyboard. I’m not sure what the kinship is there, but I know that this incredible zest for creating can be exhausting, so maybe we take comfort in the simplicity of an animal’s devotion and love.
(Doesn’t that sound really profound? Yeah, I thought so, too.)
But honestly, pets have this amazing calming effect. My dogs actually help me write, and they’ve been featured in a few of my books, too.

Now office supplies stores... if you’re not in the writing biz, you might not understand. But I could wander for hours among the giant rubber bands, the colored paper clips, the envelope choices and erasable or light-up pens! I love new screensavers, and I have to have the latest mouse. (My current mouse is wireless and battery-free. Cool, huh?)

But you know, authors rarely take their talent for granted. Every day that we get another page written, a chapter completed, a manuscript turned in, we feel blessed. So sometimes an author’s love is like a horsehair shirt, a thing we inflict on ourselves out of our need to “pay back” all our good fortune. Take for example our love of insanely tight schedules. We must love those grueling schedules, or we’d say “no” more often, right?

One of the first things most authors comment on is the number of things still waiting to be completed under a fast-approaching deadline and the desire to have more free time to relax. But if you ask an author to do something, odds are she’ll try. I’ve personally said yes to too many things, too many times. I tell myself I’ll cut back, but somehow, I never really do. Two books a year – that’s my goal.

One of these days...

Our love is also wild – for snacks, messy desks and sticky notes. When my sons (all grown now) want something good to eat, they bypass the kitchen and sneak into my office to root around. They know they’ll find a box of Better Cheddars, a canister of peanuts and a variety of chocolates that’ll rival the sweet aisle in a grocery store. I gotta have my fix. Can’t risk running out of the good stuff by leaving it in the kitchen where just anyone can find and eat it.

It’s okay, though, cuz writing uses up lots of calories. Doesn’t it? C’mon, tell me it does! After all, I still have 40 pages to go before my current manuscript is done, and I’ve already gone through more junk food than three teenagers in a dorm room on a weekend. I’m positive that my metabolism just soars while I’m creating each new story. That has to be the reason that my mouth needs to chew while my fingers type. There’s no other explanation.

And everyone knows that creating your own little world is a messy business, thus the sticky notes everywhere, mixed with the snacks and office supplies we had to have, which contribute to the cluttered desk. If I clean my desk, I lose things. As long as chaos reigns, I can find what I need.

Want to see some messy desks? (And some rogue authors who actually have clean desks?) Check out The Cave photos with author Paige Cuccaro at http://www.paigecuccaro.com/html/the_cave.html Veeery interesting stuff!

What other similarities do authors have?
Well, most of us do not have feather boas and we seldom, if ever, eat bonbons. Exceptions to the “lack of boas” comparison would be Stella’s contest, where a winner gets a gorgeous red feather boa http://www.stellacameron.com/scarletboa2005.html and my friend Dianne Castell - http://www.diannecastell.com/ - who not only owns a boa, but she brings it to a lot of book signings, usually to wrap around her cardboard standup of Alan Jackson. (It’s so funny. In photographs, people usually think Alan Jackson really is with us!)

Authors love to laugh. They love friends and family. And romance. And entertainment. Good food. The changing of the seasons. Understanding and support. Books, books and books...

Come to think of it, other than this crazy quirk of creating characters and daydreaming about plots, we authors are very much like... readers. Huh. Maybe that’s why I love readers so much, too. Seriously, you all rock. I mean, big-time ROCK.
Without readers, authors would just be sitting around together talking about... I dunno. I guess the cool stuff at Office Max and the latest, greatest junk food. Maybe we’d all break down and buy boas and bonbons.

We’d all become clichés.

Hmmm... Now see, I’m getting a visual. (I get visuals with all my books.) Maybe I should write a story about a bunch of stereotypical writers who are spurned by mean readers and resort to death by bonbons...
Well, maybe not. I mean, where’s the romance?

Okay, seriously now. (I promise I really am getting back on track.) Since I first published, I’ve learned that writers and readers share a very close relationship.

Writers are happiest with a cozy place to write; readers are happiest with a cozy place to read.

Writers love creating new romance; readers love discovering new romance.

For me, and I assume for most writers, the characters become real. I know they do for readers too, because I get letters asking me how this or that character is doing. And like...I dunno. I haven’t written it.
I get asked about Joe a lot. What’s he doing now, will he and Luna have more kids... Sometimes the letters are so good that I forget Joe isn’t real, and then I think, hmmm... will they?

So whatdya think? Can you come up with any other similarities between authors and readers? Think about it and let me know.
I'm here at the RT convention, people watching mostly, and I'm seeing some signs of resemblence - and some ways in which we differ.
Mostly what I'm seeing are really fun people brought together by a love of books.
All in all, a really great relationship if you ask me.

STELLA ASKS: WHAT DO WE REALLY WANT?

When it comes to men in our books, what do we really want?

Illusion? Reality? All illusion? All Reality? A mixture? I thought I had this down cold until I listened to some writers discussing how we write about men. They were deeply interested in how men actually think and how we change them in stories. Their contention in the end was that men don't think like women (big surprise)and that no men like conversation. Men are always puzzled by a woman's desire to discuss feelings--they don't "do" feelings. They talk to get what they want. They say charming things to get what they want--and for absolutely no other reason. Men never want any conversation during sex. I assume that includes, "Honey, you've got your fingernails in my eyes."

"We want strong men. We want gentle men. We want men who are sympathetic, malleable, intelligent, tender, sexy, take charge, take over, take care of us, stay out of our faces, do what we want you to do all the time, make us feel protected, be good providers, don't think we need you to support us, don't open the door for us, open the door for us, be great fathers, don't interfere with the way we bring up the children . . ." I'm exhausted:)

Winding this up with a smart one or two liner would be easy, but it would be a copout.

Do we want different traits in our book men than we find acceptable in our life partners? Or do we want to read scripts for some of the home movies we could take--the good, the bad and the ugly?

I'll take the plunge and admit what I think. Then it will be your turn.

We probably want bits and pieces of all the possibilities I've mentioned and a bunch more I left out. We don't want our beloved stories to make fools of us by trying to sell us men who are too inconsistent to live, or too anything to live.

But (and now I'll switch to "I") I want to read about strong, honorable men who leave a presence behind when they walk from a room. I like an interesting, often somewhat unpredictable male who keeps me guessing, but who tries to do the right thing. Mavericks may apply in my books, mavericks with laughing eyes that can turn to ice when evil wiggles its fingers. Give me the man who stops conversation when he comes on scene. Oh, and he can be making a humorous idiot of himself because he feels so strongly about something. He just can't make a blithering idiot of himself. And when the chips are finally, irrevocably down--lives are on the line, and the future of an important relationship--he can become part Superman if that's what it takes.

whoa, all this at 3:30a.m. with only a quarter of a cup of coffee circulating my veins. The rest of the cup is cold--blech!

I will always write strong men, tough but capable of sensitivity men. Particularly in any form of Suspense/thriller, romantic or otherwise, jelly-kneed protagonists of either sex don't cut it. These people have to be larger than life types I'd love to spend a weekend with in a remote lodge . . . perhaps lots of weekends. I would never be bored. I want a man to admire, but I want to feel I could be his equal, or almost:)

My husband is my realtime hero, but I wouldn't want him anywhere near the hairy monsters my book men encounter.

In BODY OF EVIDENCE, heroine Emma LaChance is determined to be self-sufficient and fearless. In the following, one of my favorite little sections, there is an exchange between Emma, and Finn Duhon, our hero, as Finn sets out to make sure no villain is hiding in her house:

The way Finn pushed doors open before entering each room gave Emma the feeling she was in an urban battle zone. She kept close behind him on the first floor, then followed him upstairs.

He stopped suddenly, holding up a hand, and she bumped into him.

Finn turned around to whisper in her ear, "You don't have to back me up. I can manage."

Her teeth chattered but she whispered back, "I'm a coward. I don't want to stay downstairs by myself."

"And you were coming to this house on your own?" Finn said. "In the middle of the night?"

"Yes. This is my home. I'd have been all right, but you've made me jumpy."

Finn said, "That makes perfect perfect sense. Why didn't I figure that out right off? I'm going to take out my gun just in case we did hear something."

Emma grabbed the back of his belt. "What? What did we hear?"

Your turn at last. Do you, like me, look for the slightly larger-than-life, completely spellbinding hero who breaks the ordinary mould. Or do you spend time questioning a male character if he isn't a potentially true representation of the good--or occasionally not-so-good--masculine examples from real life?

Take off the gloves and give it to us straight! We can take it.

And soon I intend to take a look at the women in our stories.

Back to my new hero, I go. Have a great day.

Stella

ELIZABETH LOOKS AT OTHERWORLDLY ROMANCE

A lot of people don’t know that my first novels were in the science fiction genre. Nine in all. Some featured earthlike worlds. Most didn’t. They were considered “girl books” by science fiction reviewers because I included the possibility of heterosexual attraction, of love, in the story.

Jayne has written eight novels and several novellas set on earthlike planets with earthlike societies. All of them were built around the ancient story of man and woman and love.

Neither of us had any luck attracting a big audience for those stories. Or as Jayne has often said, “People lined up around the block NOT to buy the books.”

Today, vampires and werefolk, ancient gods and goddesses, psychics and magic are not only accepted in romance, they are relished.

All that kept Christine Feehan and her marvelous vampires from having a number-one NYT bestseller spot was the Da Vinci Code. J. D. Robb/Nora Roberts has made a #1 NYT success story out of Rourke and Eve, set in New York’s near future. Sherrilyn Kenyon/Kinley MacGregor made her bones (so to speak!) with her Dark Hunter novels based in cultural myths. Katie McCalister and Mary Janice Davidson give us a humorous take on things fantastic. J. R. Ward, and Marjorie M. Liu have exploded on the scene with their own dark take on mythic and psychic and magical beings falling in love.

(If you haven’t read these authors, I can’t recommend them enough to fellow fantasy lovers!)

Does that mean that science fiction and romance are finally combined?

I’ve thought a lot about it.

My answer is … no.

Science fiction can take place on earth, but most often doesn’t. Science fiction readers not only don’t require the reference point of their home planet, they often don’t even want the home galaxy.

The futuristic/paranormal romances that have worked as well or better than ordinary romances with the readers are uniformly grounded on our home sweet home, aka Earth. They are earthbound fantasies.

See where we went wrong, Jayne? Unlike Stephen King or Dean Koontz, we didn’t picture a familiar earth where unfamiliar things can happen. We pictured an unfamiliar place where familiar things happen.

Big mistake for us. (Hey, hindsight is always 20-20.)

So fantasy lovers out there, how many of you prefer your paranormal love affairs to be firmly rooted in earthly myths?

It was a dark and . . . snowy afternoon in Ohio . . .

That’s a lie, it was a cold, dark night in Ohio. April, 1995. Storms threatened and the next day they came. But that was the night when I met Lori Foster for the first time.

Visualize a hotel suite filled with boxes, bags, piles of books, plates of food, packs of soda, lots of women, mostly in long, comfy T-shirts–yes, it was the night before a conference started and final preparations were in progress.

Enter one small, blond person with sparkly blue eyes and a mouth set in a determined line (read, "Okay, enough of this messing around–let’s organize this heap," or something similar)

Lori Foster had arrived.

Lori Foster about a year before the publication of her first book–not that any of us can imagine that this whirlwind of talent and style was ever unpublished. We have devoured her books ever since.

We old Quills welcome new Quill Lori with a loud chorus of, "We think you’re wonderful!"

We asked Lori to tell us about MURPHY’S LAW, her next single title book, due out in September, 2006 and now you shall be tantalized, teased and tormented:

"ANYTHING THAT CAN GO WRONG . . .

Nothing is going to go wrong. Ashley Miles has worked too hard for herindependence to let some Bentley-driving hunk named Quinton Murphy interfere with her plans—or her freedom. Yes, the chemistry is phenomenal. Kind of scary, actually. But that’s it. NO emotional commitments.

. . . WILL

But he’s SO wonderful—a woman could fall in love . . . How did thathappen? That wasn’t part of the plan! But can she trust him? Really trust him? The man is just so mysterious. There’s only one solution: put it all on the line and see what Quinton does when she tells him how she feels. And hope everything that can go wrong . . . won’t.."


You don’t need more from me.
Cheers, Stella

ELIZABETH BREAKS THE NEWS

Okay, I know I should wait for everyone, but I have to leave and I didn't want to be left out.

As it were. (Yes, my evil twin is at the helm.)

We have a wonderful treat for all of you:

LORI FOSTER HAS BECOME A QUILL!

Not only is she a terrific story teller, she's a great person. If you haven't read her, check out Amazon and drool.

We're sharpening quills for her to run with right now.


WELCOME TO THE MADHOUSE, LORI!

Another side of Jayne

Those of you looking for an interview that illuminates the dark side of Jayne might want to check out her two-part blog conversation with a chicken named Ms. Kitty over at www.squawkradio.com

But beware. This is not for the faint of heart...

Suzanne Interviews Amanda Quick

Suzanne: Your new Amanda Quick hardcover, SECOND SIGHT, hits stores this week. You've written a lot of books under your three different pen names (bet most of you didn't know I was a master/mistress of understatement) but you seem really excited about this one. Please tell us why.

Amanda/Jayne: You're right, I'm really jazzed about SECOND SIGHT. It's the launch book in my new series featuring The Arcane Society, a secret Victorian-era group dedicated to psychic/paranormal research. I've always loved working with the psychic stuff and this book gave me my chance to weave it into one of my novels of historical romantic-suspense.

Suzanne: I've read SECOND SIGHT and absolutely loved it! But for the sake of your readers who haven't had that pleasure yet, please share more with us.

Amanda/Jayne: My heroine, Venetia Milton, is a Victorian-era photographer with the psychic ability to see peoples' auras. Most of the time this is pretty cool because it enhances her talent for taking insightful portraits. But one night she witnesses a murder. The only thing she sees clearly is the killer's aura but that is more than enough to put her life in jeopardy.

Suzanne: I have to tell you that Venetia's particular talent fascinates me. Are there any other problems in store for her?

Amanda/Jayne: Yes, indeed. A while back she had a one night stand with a mysterious man she believes is conveniently dead. Now she's posing as his widow. The fake identity seemed like a good idea at the time and, after all, what harm could there be in pretending to be Mrs. Jones? The man is dead and her photography business is flourishing...

Turns out there is nothing like having a dead husband come back from the grave to ruin a fine spring morning and play havoc with your neatly arranged life.

Suzanne: Gotta admit that part made me laugh out loud! I love the humor in your books. I think it's one aspect of your amazing talent that has gone underappreciated. (Is there such a word?)

Amanda/Jayne: I suspect that is the case because not everyone gets my sense of humor. Needless to say, I am profoundly grateful to readers who do!

Suzanne: So, what does a Victorian lady do when she discovers an inconvenient husband on her doorstep?

Amanda/Jayne: Well, Venetia consigns her "husband' to the attic.

Suzanne: LOLOLOLOL Now tell us a bit more about your hero-in-the-attic.

Amanda/Jayne: Gabriel Jones is the Master of the mysterious Arcane Society. He's endowed with some powerful psychic talents and he's more than a little annoyed, to say the least, to discover that he's got a "wife". Also, he's not used to sleeping in an attic. But he feels a responsibility to protect Venetia. After all, when she appropriated his last name she had no way of knowing that she would attract the attentions of the very dangerous psychic killer who is out to destroy him.

Suzanne: I don't want to give away too much of this wonderful story, (which, as a reader, I hope is the first of many about The Arcane Society) but is there anything else you're willing to share with us about SECOND SIGHT?

Amanda/Jayne: One of the things that makes this series unusual is that it will cross over into my contemporary romantic-suspense word. The next Arcane Society novel, WHITE LIES, will be out next January under my Jayne Ann Krentz name. In that book we'll meet some of the modern-day descendents of The Arcane Society. The heroine of that story is a human lie-detector. Talk about having a psychic talent that can ruin your social life. Like, what man wants to date a woman who can detect every lie? A guy can even say he'll call you....

Suzanne: I can't wait! January 2007, you say? I'm going to mark that date on my calendar. Now, I'd also like to tell readers that SECOND SIGHT is in stores as we speak. They can also order a copy from any of the links below (Psst: amazon is offering 33% off and b&n.com will give you 30% off. Great deals! As for the Seattle Mystery Bookshop -- no discount -- but it does have signed copies which make terrific gifts).

P.S. Trust me, you're in for a real treat!

  

SUZANNE: LET'S TALK TATTOOS AND T-SHIRTS

We all know that tattoos have been around for thousands of years, and can be anything and everything from an expression of someone's culture and religion to body art (after all, art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder) to a misguided and impulsive act done on the spur of the moment.

Tattoo is a derivation of the Tahitian word "tatu" meaning to mark something. The ancient Egyptians did it. The Greeks and the Romans did it. The Polynesians brought it to New Zealand, where a type of facial tattooing, Moko, is still used today. The early Britons, the Norse, and the Danes used tattoos ceremonially or as a way of depicting a family crest. Not to mention the early Japanese tradition of tattooing criminals with a mark for first, second and third offenses. (Three strikes and you're out!)

A more benign --- and less permanent --- form of this expression may be found today on T-shirts, bumper stickers, even vanity license plates. I admit I don't wear them, plaster them to my back bumper, or pay extra for them, but they fascinate me all the same. Here are a few of my favorites:


"Veni, Vedi, Visa: I Came. I Saw. I Did a Little Shopping."


"Procrastinate Now"


"Time's fun when you're having flies.......Kermit the Frog"


"I used to be Snow White, but I drifted." --- Mae West


"Fax is stranger than fiction."


"You have the right to remain silent. USE IT!"


"If the shoe fits, buy it in every color."

(This is one of my personal favorites. I moan and groan, and on occasion even weep, when I have to go shoe shopping. The problem: big feet and a size differential. One foot is a size 9½ and the other 10½. Those who've read my contemporary romance GOODNIGHT, SWEETHEART may recognize my feet since I gave them to my heroine, Sydney St. John.)


"It's great to have a friend to grow old with. YOU GO FIRST!"


And in the same vein: "The key to aging well is to pick one and stick with it!"


"It's true hard work never killed anybody, but I figure, why take the chance?"--- Ronald Reagan.


"He who laughs, lasts."


"I don't come with a lot of baggage, but I do have a few little carry-ons!"


"The right to be heard does not include the right to be taken seriously." --- Hubert Humphrey


And last, but far from least: "Chocolate: It's not just for breakfast anymore!"


As we start the new week, do you have any T-shirt wisdom you can share with the rest of us?

Here's to a laughter!
Suzanne

CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR APRIL WINNER!

Our April contest winner is Seena from Las Vegas, Nevada. She has won a signed book from each of the Quills: Stella Cameron, Jayne Ann Krentz, Elizabeth Lowell and Suzanne Simmons.

We hope you enjoy the books, Seena!

Stella's East-to-follow Diet

I've been dieting--on and off--since I was fifteen and my mother told me that with hips like mine, I'd always have to wear a girdle.

Now I've had it. I'm rebelling. Who decided a woman's hips shouldn't be . . . curvaceous? May they eat semolina--boiled semolina with no taste added--for weeks.

I've recognized a major truth in life: A little care in what one eats is wise, good for health, more likely to make clothes appear sleeker, helps eliminate sweaty body parts in hot weather, but lifelong gustatory deprivation is a great big drag.

Tastes, textures, that lovely roll of a perfect bite of desert over the tongue--mmm. We were intended to close our eyes and float while savoring a piece of a favorite cheese. Then, there's Key Lime Pie, lobster, perfect asparagus, black forest torte, an enchilada overflowing with refried beans and gushy cheese . . I must control myself.

I advocate a diet that includes at least an occasional day of complete gastronomic abandon and I have (surprise) a question for you. Don't conclude your response too quickly in case you miss something and have to add it later.

Imagine that tomorrow morning you will be required to eat anything and everything you want all day. What will be on your menu?

Stella--rubbing her hands, cracking her knuckles, preparing to call and order yellow sponge cake with apricot filling and marzipan frosting.

Literary Pornography? Stella is curious.

What do you think is the difference between literary pornography and pornography? Bigger words in the former? Better words in the former? Can’t be that–some words are the same length and have the same importance no matter where or in what type of publication they’re written.

Yesterday I read a piece in a publishing magazine–a long, complimentary, even gushy article about a book that is (gasp) literary pornography. This offering has lots of pretty fabulously done illustrations. Pornographic illustrations. I will have to pick up the book because I always was a sucker for a good picture or two.

How many of you have read EXIT TO EDEN by Ann Rampling, alias, Ann Rice? In this lauded book, the founder of an exclusive resort dedicated to sexual fantasy (very cleverly called, The Club) develops a crack in her iron self esteem when she falls in love with a photojournalist employed as a slave at The Club. (Anything familiar here?) Before you rush out to buy your copy, I should tell you that this is literary pornography so you should be prepared for big, important words like, ass, breast, cock, cream, sweat, possibly even the odd taxing phrase (this is my own creation) such as, “Through the veil of demand, he dragged her and she went, gladly, into the reaching arms of a dozen writhing young male gods, all smiling, all erect, and all determined to be satisfied.”

Major warp to the middle-aged writer, pleasantly round with a sweet face (unfortunately covered with too much makeup at the moment) wearing a low-cut short, black satin dress, black fishnet hose, and possibly some sort of veil arrangement, the type with the spots that remind us of fuzzy beauty marks carried in little comfit boxes in the seventeen hundreds. The natural variety would be moles.

This nice, earnest, eager writer is trying to be sexy. She’s writing “Erotica” and has decided to leap to the middle of the fantasies and dress the part. Too bad they arrest you for running around naked–it would be so much simpler. This is a nice if naive woman. She probably enjoys what she writes and feels power and control when she’s working, but she won’t be written up anywhere as having produced a piece of literary pornography and she’s looking for a publicity angle–we’re all looking for publicity angles, just not always the one our lady author has chosen. But she’s having fun, feels special and may even have written some entertaining pornography.

The world of publishing magazines wouldn’t even consider remarking on one of this author’s books because they’re full of “kinky sex,” “gratuitous sex,” and they are “weak on plot, characterization and meaningful emotion.”

Yes, I’d croak before I put on a veil (except maybe on an opera hat) but I will defend the right of another writer to wear seven veils if she wants to. And I’ll stoutly announce that while one story of pornography/erotica (Why don’t we drop “erotica” which is meant to soften the idea of pornography? Be proud of whatever skill you practice.)–anyway, I’ll argue that there will always be different levels of brilliance in any art form, but an ass is an ass . . . isn’t it?

Question: Although I've already asked a number of questions. If some people didn't, deep down (or even not so deep down) think sex is bad, particularly sex that explores possibilities beyond missionary position, would the worlds of Hollywood, TV, Advertising, Fashion, The Internet, and so many other successful endeavors collapse?

And what word can we use to replace "sexy" now that it's come to mean anything from a fast car to a provocative debate on global warming?