An array of Heroes!

What's your favorite type of hero?
You know, they come in all sizes, professions, mind sets and personalities. I was pondering a movie to see this weekend and it got me thinking of some of my favorites, and how the heroes varied a lot.
I know you'll say you love them all, but you gotta have a preference, right?

What about the tortured guy who has to overcome his own baggage to be truly heroic?
Like... MAN ON FIRE!

Wasn't Denzel just incredible in this movie?
I loved it, and it became a favorite for me and my youngest son. Denzel was so wounded and shut off from the world, but he still had the heart of a hero, and it only took a little girl to make him see that.

What about the quiet guy with abilities that make him an outcast in society? He'll never fit in, never be trusted or accepted, but he still gives his all to defend the innocent.

Yep, I'm talking about BLADE!
Luv me some Blade.
If they'd make them, I'd be first in line to see a Blade 4, 5, and 6!
And speaking of Blade...

Don't you love a character who is heroic to his core, but clowns around and pretends not to take anything or anyone seriously? Hubba hubba that Ryan Reynolds is one FINE young man, and I adored his role in Blade Trinity!

I think my favorite is the secretive guy, the one who is so quiet and contained and in control of himself that he keeps everything bottled up inside.
You'd never know this guy could be so lethal until you get him going. Then, when you push him hard enough to make him break loose - look out!
Matt Damon isn't the typical kick-butt hero by any stretch, but he's such an incredible actor that he carries off any role with awe-inspiring skill.

I also love the average guy, the man who does what he can without special fighting skills or paranormal ability. He gets beat up in the process, and almost never gets the credit he deserves. But then, he doesn't do it for credit - he does it because it's his nature to protect.

These are just a few of my examples.
Do you have any to add?
What are YOUR favorites?

Happy reading, watching, and hero-analyzing!

ELIZABETH'S EVIL TWIN PLAYS WITH LOADED WORDS

Let's play a game.

Reviewer One: Mazie Meets Mason is an overwritten, formulaic, sentimental romance.

Reviewer Two: Mazie Meets Mason is a lush, archetypal, emotional story of love.

Guess which reviewer liked the book?

Easy, huh. Reviewer number two.

But they both described the book in the same way.

OVERWRITTEN/LUSH

FORMULAIC/ARCHETYPAL

SENTIMENTAL/EMOTIONAL

Guns aren't the only thing that can be loaded. Words can be, too.

SO LET'S HAVE SOME FUN.

Let's set up words that say "I hated it" next to "I loved it."

plodding/detailed

overplotted/intricate

bodice ripper/romance

turgid/layered

purple prose/lyrical writing

unbelievable/imaginative

silly/entertaining

stupid/charming

tear-jerker/moving

lurid/sexy

graphic/really sexy

childish/cute

slow/thoroughly developed

slapstick/drawing room comedy

Okay, it's your turn to match loaded words.


AND SHARE THEM WITH US!


And the next time you read a review--or a newspaper article--look at how the author LOADED it.

You'll never look at things quite the same. ;-)



*exit evil twin sister*

EXCUSES, EXCUSES

I go to bed at around 5 in the afternoon, get up between 12 and 2 in the morning, work till 5 in the afternoon with few breaks . . . Okay, I forgot to blog and I had a brilliant topic in mind a few days ago, but I don't remember what it was.

Whenever I'm asked what I do for a living and I say I'm a writer, I seem to get responses such as, "I'm going to write a book," "I've got a great idea for a book," "You won't believe what happened to me when I was abducted in Mongolia," or "If I tell you the best plot for a book, will you write it for me." I am assuming this last question really means that if I write a book I'll get to share the humongous profits "the best plot" is bound to command.

Why am I blathering about this? Because I really do think a lot of people would like to see their stories in print. A lot of people would like to be writers and they actually dream about getting into this glamorous business.

Please, please, help me here. WHY do apparently normal people think it would be cool to keep the kind of hours I do (and large numbers of writers have strange creative hours), have to schedule showers into each morning, put the time for breakfast in a day book, pass up one or both of the hour shows you really enjoy each week, and be awake when you planned to sleep because you can't stop plotting? Woohoo, really glamorous. Imagine the thrill of owning a mind that doesn't shut down, not at all.

And the clothes one gets to wear to work, the coiffeurs, the makeup job. I love this blue chenille bathrobe (It's almost one in the afternoon, you say? What does that have to do with anything? My green and yellow Alladin shaped slippers are always eyecatching. Note the hair. It is not crewcut, don't be rude. I slept it into this shape and it has a certain panache. You, too, could have this do:)

Enough horsing around. I would write if all that remained of me was a pair of hands and a brain. Without the hands, I'd hope for a mouth and use Dragon, voice activated software. I do write come rain or come shine, hell or highwater and any other appropriate cliche could be inserted here. Why? Because despite the lack of glamour in the everyday life of a writer, there is nothing like the thrill of reading a sentence, paragraph, scene, or chapter, sitting back and thinking, "That's not bad." Sure, you'll tweak it here and there but if you're smart, you won't pare the words down until they're flat and too sparse.

When a reader says, "You've entertained me for hours," I get a warm feeling all over and I grin like an idiot. When someone says, "Your books are too scary," or "sexy" or "graphic and I don't think you should use bad language," the smile stays on my face and my mind slips away to a place where life is often less real than real life, because real life is too scary, kinky, cruel, graphic and filled with foul language for me. I go into my own storyland.

I could keep going with this but I'll give you a well-earned break (if you've managed to read this all the way through:). If you think you want to write, do it. Don't wait to have enough time, or until the children leave home, or (perish) until you don't have to earn a living--just do it. Get out your day book and ink (not pencil) in those writing hours. Early morning, late evening, sitting in your car in a parking lot, whatever.

Good luck--we readers hope to see your name in bookstores soon,


Stella

I would love to read your comments on writing and reading. If you are purely a reader (you lovely person, you) how have you visualized the writer's life? If you're a writer and have what you consider a "normal" life--why do you think that?

What, Susan wonders, is everyone watching?

Okay, I admit it. I've got no blog chops tonight--my mind's a wasteland. So, speaking of such, what's everyone watching on the tube these days?

For my part, I'm loving Grey's Anatomy. I've watched from Episode One. I originally tuned in because it's set in Seattle and I'm always curious to see how they handle my hometown. But from the get-go I was sucked in by the characters, the sheer level of talent (LOVE Sandra Oh) and, of course, the romances that were busting out all over.

I also like Veronica Mars. Do I think it's believable? Nope. Does it make me laugh and entertain the heck out of me? You betcha. Ditto with Desperate Housewives.

A new show for me this year is Ugly Betty. America Ferrer took that title role and just made it her own. She makes you care so much about the character and her entire family. And just when you think one of the cast's characters is about to slip into a cliche he/she takes off in a direction I for one didn't see coming.

Still watching Lost, but it's not the must-see it used to be. Although I do enjoy looking at Sawyer and Sayid. :)


Oh! Oh! Almost forgot Heroes! I was a big Marvel comic book reader as a kid (hey, I had older brothers) and Heroes is one big Marvel comic of a drama. My only bitch is the white subtitles when Hiro and his sidekick are talking Japanese to each other. Hello! Over 50, here--can't read that white on light. But I'll forgive that because I get to watch the cheerleader. Hayden Panetteri grew up on Guiding Light, which I've watched off and on for the past 30 years while eating my lunch.

Hmmm. Soap Operas. Now that's another entire blog.



Save the cheerleader, save the world

So what are you watching?

Suzanne gives fair warning: Q&A’s guaranteed to drive a writer nuts.

I swear I didn’t make any of these questions up. I didn’t have to. I have been routinely asked these questions at corporate functions, cocktail parties, even family reunions. Here are just a few of the questions guaranteed to drive a writer nuts. (Along with some of my very own suggested tongue-in-cheek answers.)

Q: "Are you still writing?"

Gracious Answer: "Yes, I am. I’m currently working on my 42nd book." (Smile pleasantly.) "Writing is in my blood. I’ll never stop writing. In fact, I love writing so much I’d do it even if I wasn’t getting paid."

Snippy/Impatient Answer: "Yes, I am." (Raise one eyebrow and frown.) "Are you still a doctor?" "Are you still a teacher? (Substitute appropriate profession as needed.)

What-you’d-really-like-to-say-on-a-bad-day Answer: "Hell, yes. Do I look like I can afford to retire?" (Throw hands into the air and gaze toward the heavens beseechingly.) "I’m working 24/7. I’m up to my eyeballs in plot problems. My computer ate Chapter 32 yesterday and I discovered too late that I’d failed to back it up. I hate my story. I hate my characters. In fact, I hate writing." (Note to self: TMI.)

Q: "Do you do any research for your books?"

Gracious Answer: "Yes, I do." (Smile pleasantly.) "As a matter of fact, I just returned from a research trip to the heart of Borneo where I studied the mating rituals of the bobonos, which, as I’m sure you know, are a nearly extinct species."

Snippy/Impatient Answer: "You mean beyond a lifetime of studying and reading?"

What-you’d-really-like-to-say-on-a-bad-day Answer: "Who needs to do research? I make it all up. That’s why it’s called fiction."

Q: "I have a great idea for a story, but I don’t have the time/the talent/the discipline to get it down on paper. Will you write the book for me?"

Gracious Answer: "Regrettably I must decline your kind offer. Right now I have so many ideas that I won’t need any for the foreseeable future." (Smile pleasantly.) "But I can give you the name of a good ghost writer."

Snippy/Impatient Answer: "Ideas are a dime a dozen."

What-you’d-really-like-to-say-on-a-bad-day Answer: "Hell, no. Writing is hard work. That’s why it’s called work."

Q: "How much money do you make?"

Gracious Answer: "My income varies from year to year." (Smile pleasantly.) "The average writer in this country makes less than $5000 annually. I’m somewhere between the average and the bestsellers at the top of the New York Times list."

Smug Answer: "Let’s just say that I'm laughing all the way to the bank."

What-you’d-really-like-to-say-on-a-bad-day Answer: "Enough about me. How much money do you make?"

Inquiring Minds want to know, of course: What kind of questions do you get in your personal or professional life that drive you nuts? Do you have clever answers on the tip of your tongue? Or are you more like me and think of the perfect comeback an hour later?

Cheers!
Suzanne

Jayne Confesses her Secret Fashion Passion

So Frank and I are in our most favorite place on earth, Hawaii, and I’m supposed to be working on my next Amanda Quick Arcane Society novel. Which I am. Honest. In between walks on the beach and kicking back on the lanai to read. (Hey, this is Hawaii). Anyway, we just returned from lunch -- a delicious Thai vegetable and tofu curry -- and I managed to pick up another Aloha shirt on the way back to the room. What can I say? I love Aloha shirts. They are my secret fashion passion even though for years I could not wear them because they were made only for men.

I bought numerous Aloha shirts for Frank. For a long time I had to be content watching him wear them. I yearned for the day when someone would design them for women. When the feminine version started appearing, I was thrilled and began collecting madly for myself. There is nothing else like an Aloha shirt, as far as I’m concerned. With their gorgeous designs and vivid hues, they satisfy the part of me that has always responded to exotic patterns and intense color. But they do something more for me.

Many accounts trace the history of the classic Aloha shirt to a Honolulu merchant named Ellery Chun who created the first one out of scraps of kimono silk sometime during the 1920s. I ask you, how could any designer go wrong starting with beautiful kimono silk? The surfers and beach boys and male tourists went crazy for the shirts. Lots of men wore them over the years, including Elvis.

For some reason, Aloha shirts – both the masculine and feminine version -- have to be short sleeved. I’m not sure why this is so, but I’ve seen long-sleeved Aloha shirts and they just don’t work.

Aloha shirts send a message that says I’m enjoying life and I don’t let the little stuff faze me. When you put one on you immediately feel more cheerful; more relaxed. When you see one, you smile, even if you're not the one wearing it. You’ve got to love any garment that can make you happier.

I have this theory that if more people wore Aloha shirts the world would be a happier, more peaceful place.

What’s your secret fashion passion?

It takes all kinds....

First, let me say that ...
but I'm just too crushed for time to hunt up cute smilies to add.
Sorry!

Also, know up front that I'm THRILLED to hear from readers for any reason. I'm not picking on anyone here, or singling out any emails. To everyone who has written me - THANK YOU!

This topic just seemed so interesting to me that I wanted to explore it more.
Not to complain.
Not because anyone's email or opinion bothered me.

In fact, it always fascinates me to know what others think about my books, even if their thoughts are contrary with my own.

So here I go.

When I wrote Jude's Law , I introduced the heroine's brother Tim, who, at first, was about as sleezy and unlikable as you could get. Throughout that book, Tim didn't change much, but he learned a few things. And we saw him at least try to grow up and become a better person.

I got a lot of emails from readers who wanted Tim dead.
Buried.
Gone from the earth.

Tim was not well liked.
Even I didn't like him, but I sort of understood him.

And hey, as the heroine's brother, I couldn't see killing him. That would hurt her.

Then, in Murphy's Law, with another secondary character's guidance, Tim morphed a little.
Thanks to Denny, we saw Tim become a more likeable guy.

Still not hero material in my mind.
But he did show growth.

Now I get just as many emails from readers who want Tim to get his own book, as I got from folks wanting him dead!

I'm sorry to tell everyone, but it ain't gonna happen.
Tim won't die, and he won't become a hero, either.
Tim is what he is, a flawed secondary character. Period.

But I remembered Tim's tale as I received some messages from readers about another character in my new book.

In Causing Havoc, Roger on his worst day is, in my opinion, a whole lot better than Tim on his best day.
But again, readers want him dead.
There is such complete loathing for that poor man!

In case anyone who hasn't read Causing Havoc still plans to, I don't want to give the story away.
But I can tell you that Roger doesn't die.
And like Tim, he shows growth.

Yes, he made mistakes, but come on folks, what would a book be if all the characters were so clear cut as to be either a pure hero or a vile villain, with no one walking the line, or struggling internally?

Can there be no misunderstandings?
Can't there be, as in real life, some folks who stumble a little through misguidance or a horrid past?
Can there be characters who make genuine mistakes, just as we humans do, but try to atone for those mistakes?

Do you, as a reader, enjoy seeing a character redeemed if not in one book, then throughout a couple of books, maybe even a series?

Do you like some "gray" personality types thrown in with the clear cut black and white?

Can you name a character in a book that you started out hating, but came to like?
Or vice versa?

I hope that more people understand and forgive Roger, but if everyone despises him, I'll deal with that, too.
Now Dean... he might have something to say about it.
But we'll save that for another time when Dean might finagle his own interview again.

Hugs to all!

Lori

Flash!

LORI FOSTER WILL BE #10 ON THE NYT LIST THIS WEEK. JAYNE ANN KRENTZ WILL BE #14. CONGRATULATIONS, LORI AND JAYNE!

ELIZABETH CURSES

It all started innocently enough. Blogger, the program Quills use to present these blogs, started promoting a new and improved version.

I ignored it. My experience with new and improved programs has been that they suck. Wide. In nine dimensions.

The promotions became more urgent. It became harder to get to the old program. I cursed and gave in to the point that I investigated what was involved in the change-over.

It required me to set up an account with Google.

I didn’t want an account with Google.

Why? Simple. Google wanted an email address for the account. I have only one, and I don’t hand it out to everyone who asks—especially the owner of a worldwide search engine!

I went back to the old Blogger program and picked my way through the increasingly fraught minefield in order to blog.

Then I was told that I couldn’t do it the old way anymore. I had to do it the Google way.

Or else.

After blistering the paint in my office with my delight at being coerced into something I never wanted in the first place, I gave in and started to set up the account. Cissy, my web guru/goddess/miracle worker said for me to use my Writerspace email addy.

I didn’t know I had one.

(Like, duh, do you really think I go out and LOOK for ways to spend more time on my computer?)

Cissy said she’d register for me under the old password with the new email addy.

All is well, right?

WRONG.

My new username and password weren’t accepted.

Why? Simple. I hadn’t answered the email Google sent to the account I never use. Until I answered the email, I wouldn’t be officially registered.

Naturally, I tried to access my new email.

Didn’t work. Went nowhere. Neenered me in the extreme.

Cissy said she’d go to my Writerspace email and answer the Google email and all would be well.

Um, NOT.

Cissy can’t get to the account.

Why? Damned if I know.

Damned if she knows.

Just plain damned.

When last heard from, Cissy was “playing in the server.”

*several hours pass*

*Elizabeth chooses fireproof paint for office*

*repaints*

*Cissy passes miracle with server.*

I'M BLOGGING AGAIN.

SUCCESS!!!!!

If you don't count the fact that half my work day is down the toilet.

Have any "new and improved" stories you want to share?

OF FAIRIES AND FROGS AND KNITTED THINGS

The wall beside me is covered with paintings, some large or fairly so, but mostly small. They are all whimsical. A stranger might assume a children's writer probably works here.

When I'm ready to blog I tend to tune up the 'puter and write whatever comes to me. Tonight I glanced at my paintings and thought about the sometimes extreme differences between people, people who are friends and who possibly share many interests. I thought particularly about my dear writer buddies and the traits we have in common--or not.

Not long ago my sophisticated friend, Elizabeth Lowell, wrote about her collection of crystal knife rests. I think I commented then that I could imagine her handling those pretty things, turning them over and considering each one. At that time I didn't give a lot of thought to what I collect but wow, how did this childlike lover of all things sparkling get lucky enough to gather such understanding companions (that means that they don't laugh at me--or not in front of me)?

My collection of pictures are of pirate frogs on stormy seas, or pirate frogs reading stories to kittens and mice. There are fairies walking spider webs, fairies taking their broken wings to the wing doctor, fairies flying on the backs of dragonflies. An enchantress leading the dragon she hatched from an egg looks at me over her shoulder. A cat plays the piano with help from a mouse who dances on the keys. Enough of those except to say that they are a blaring clue to who I am.

On my CD player sits a fabulous silk and satin frog (a gift from Suzanne who also loves a little whimsy), and more frogs, of all kinds are soon evident if you look around the office and concentrate. Most people miss that the drawer and cupboard pulls in and around my desks are in the shape of climbing frogs. Boxes guarded by jeweled frogs, bronze frog scultures, wooden frogs, a silver frog or two, they can be found tucked around this house. In case you haven't guessed, I collect frogerobelia, too.

In the library I keep my knitted "things." An English bobby, a scarecrow, tooth fairy, mouse fairy, so many fairies, and a penguin, an octopus, an elf, a teddy bear's picnic, a giant toad, and more. Yes, I collect knitted toys as well.

I think I've hit on something. Most of us collect things and those things may reveal a good deal about us.

Oh, and I'm fond of whacky salt and pepper shakers but apart from mentioning the palm tree with two coconuts, one for salt and one for pepper, hanging from fronds (and sent to me by Jill Marie Landis), I'll give you a break.

What do you think your collections reveal about you?
Any added ideas as to what my collections mean--about me?

Stella:)

Susan Contemplates Stupid Pet Tricks

I’ve had a lot of different pets in my life. And each one had a stupid pet trick that was solely his or her own. I had a dog named Tiger that I picked out at the pound for my sixteenth birthday present. He had this trick where he’d drag himself on his belly down our long driveway while clicking his teeth. And he’d very gently take short, skinny little pretzel sticks out of my mouth—my mom was always having me show off that one. He also thought he could walk on water. He’d fly off the side of my dad’s boat after the bait that was being cast out. We called him our Norwegian Herring Hound and had to take a lot of fishhooks out of his mouth when he actually snapped up the bait before it could leave the boat.

Tiger

My first pet as a newlywed was an Irish Setter named Jude. You could balance a Milkbone on her nose and tell her to stay, and she’d sit there cross-eyed until you said, “Okay!” Then she’d flip that bone in the air, catch it and chow it down. She’d also swim for literally hours on end. (Her record was 5 hours in the Sammamish Slough) People from the boat launch near our beach cabin on Hood Canal were always expressing concern that somebody’s dog had fallen off a boat in the middle of the canal. But it was just Jude swimming after some seagull.
Jude and Maxwell

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I honestly don’t remember Maxwell’s trick. You’d think I would—we had that Manx cat for eleven years. All the dead mouse/rat/bird parts he brought me must have given me a mental block.

For just a few weeks shy of fifteen years, we had a brown tabby named Styx who liked to fish his own treats out of the Pounce can, and he sat up and begged like a dog--especially if there was chicken salad involved. He also knocked on my office window when he wanted in. If that didn’t do the trick, he’d hang from the sash and bang his body against the fixed part of the window. His last, sure-fire trick was raking his nails down the glass. THAT got me up toot sweet, lemme tell you.

Styx

Currently we have two cats, Boo and Mojo. Boo hides things. Little pillows, long feather sticks, my glasses. Right this minute my checkbook is missing. I’m hoping that’s because the soulmate took it for something, because God only knows where Boo might have dragged it off to.
Boo

Mojo plays soccer with little crinkle balls by the hour. He packs them in his mouth and usually starts out in the bathroom, because that’s the one room where you can’t lose it. But he loves to be admired and he’s a risk taker, so after a while he’ll pack it back out to the living room and bat it as close to the armoire, the loveseats, the couch as he can get, sliding after it like Ichiro into home plate. And when he loses it, he comes complaining to me and doesn’t let up until I get the yardstick out to fish it from beneath whichever piece of furniture it’s disappeared.

We won’t even talk about his photo paper addiction.

Mojo

This is probably waaay more information than any of you ever wanted. Lucky for you, huh, that I believe in tit for tat. So tell me about your pets’ tricks.

Lori's new book is causing havoc with Susan's libido

Susan: Hi everyone!
Susan here, ready to interview Lori on the start of her new series with Berkley Publishing, beginning with the February 6th release of CAUSING HAVOC.

And after that, also part of the series,
SIMON SAYS will be available in July.
Um, ‘scuze me while I wipe the drool from my chin. But, oh, my, Gawd. These books are about Hunks, with a capital "H." Mega manly guys who also know how to be sweet and nice and at their core are true family men.


So Lori... ::::Susan looks around, doesn't see Lori, but does see a big, bulky and buff hunk:::: Um, where’s Lori?

Dean: I dunno. Off somewhere, doing something. Probably working on another book, or maybe watching a fight or two. You know Lori.

Susan: Okaaaay. And you are?

Dean: The hero, Dean Conor. Havoc to some.

Susan: Havoc?

Dean: My fight name. As in CAUSING HAVOC. It's my book.

Susan: About you, huh?

Dean: Yeah.

Susan: So... I’m supposed to interview you?

Dean: Is that a problem?

Susan: Well...

Dean: Don't let the fight thing throw you. I don't bite, don't provoke confrontations, I can speak in complete sentences and contrary to the belief of some (you readers know who you are) being an athlete doesn't make you a dummy.

Susan: Of course not.

Dean: I'm actually a successful businessman.

Susan: That's nice. But I thought... that is, Lori was supposed to ...

Dean: I also know how to treat a lady right.

Susan: Uh huh. I just bet you do.

Dean: Lori and I decided that I know more about the book than she does. See, she just comes up with a character –

Susan: That would be you."

Dean: Yeah. She lets me invade her brain, and then she gets out of the way.
So actually, I wrote the book. Hell, I lived the book.
Lori just typed it up.
I know it sounds strange, but that's how it works with her. I sort of told her about my past, my present, and what was about to happen.
She did add in a few descriptive words, but that's it.

Susan: I see.

Dean: No, SusieQ, I'm not sure you do. Why don’t you take a chair? Get comfortable. You can sit here beside me and I can explain everything to you.
Can I get you anything?
A drink maybe?

Susan: Um, are you flirting with me?

Dean: Definitely not. Not that you aren't worth it. But Eve wouldn’t like it.

Susan: I'm not sure I trust that smile of yours! :::Susan sits::: Okay, so who is Eve?

Dean: I like it that you started with an easy one. Eve is the sexiest woman I ever met. But that’s not what kept me coming back.

Susan: I'll bite. Figuratively I mean. What kept you coming back?

Dean: At first, it was because Eve is Cam’s best friend. Cam is one of my sisters, the older one, but still younger than me. Jacki is the baby, but actually, she's all grown up now and a real handful. Sort of a hell raiser, you know?

Susan: Dean, you’re smiling again.

Dean: Yeah, well, Cam and Jacki were real nice surprises. I hadn’t seen them for 20 years.
See, I figured they’d be pampered, spoiled little princesses, not the cute little girls I'd known so long ago.

Susan: But they weren’t spoiled?

Dean: With Aunt Lorna in charge? No.
In most ways, their lives were harder than mine.

Susan: And what was your life like?

Dean: Not bad really, though I can't convince Cam of that. We traveled. Everywhere.
You see, after my parents died, my uncle took me in, and Aunt Lorna kept the girls.
And the house.
And all the money.
I figured the girls were living it up in the family home, still with their friends and all things familiar while I was off in various god-forsaken countries with nothing familiar at all...
:::Shakes head:::
It wasn't quite what I'd imagined. Aunt Lorna can be a real...
Never mind. The girls love her.

Susan: And you don’t?

Dean: :::Snort:::: No. Hell, I don't really know her.
Like I said, I was off traveling. The only relative I knew was the uncle who raised me.
He was rough around the edges, but still a great guy.
From what I've seen of Lorna so far... no. I don't even like her, much less love her.
She's the type of relative I can definitely do without.

Susan: But you love your sisters?

Dean: A real surprise, huh? After my uncle passed away, I lived entirely on my own, and I liked it that way. I never figured myself for the “big brother” type.
But Cam and Jacki...

Gregor: Jacki is hot.

Dean: :::Stiffening up::: Gregor, do you want me to kill you?

Gregor: Ummm... :::pulls at his ear::: Is that one of those tricky rhetorical-type questions?

Dean: No, it's not.

Gregor: Then... no.

Susan: ::::sitting back in surprise:::

Dean: Ignore him. That’s just Gregor – a six and a half foot tall freak of nature.

Gregor: :::trying for a look of affront:::: Now c’mon bud.
You know Jacki and I are perfect together.

Dean: Convince Jacki of that.

Gregor: You know I will.

Susan: You are a big one, aren't you?

Gregor: That I am. :::flexes a massive bicep::: You like em big, sugar?

Susan: I think I just swallowed my tongue.

Dean: I'm telling Jacki.

Gregor: What? I was just funnin' the lady.

Dean: I'm sure Jacki will understand that, too.

Gregor: Damnit, Dean -

Susan: Ahem. You were telling me about your sisters and about Eve?

Dean: Right. The girls are great, but Eve... she's incredible. Not just gorgeous, but smart, too.

Gregor: Yeah.

Dean: ...Gregor... I will kill you.

Gregor: Oh, c'mon, Havoc. I was just agreein' with you! Eve is smart.
And she's real easy on the eyes, too.
:::Pulls up a chair on the other side of Susan:::: Pay no attention to Dean. He sometimes acts like an ass just because he knows he can still take me in a fight.

Simon: But we're working on that, right, Gregor? Eventually, with me in your corner, you'll be as good as Dean.

Dean: No, he won't.

Susan: :::eyes go wide in wonder::: Oh my.

Gregor: Ha! Look at her, Dean. There she goes, gettin' faint and all.

Dean: Yeah. Happens every time. Every woman who sees Simon can't stop gawking.
Susan?
Yoo hoo, Susan?

Simon: Ignore those meatheads. ::: takes a chair right in front of Susan, caging her in:::
I'm Simon Evans, Dean's trainer and manager and coach -

Gregor: His everything.

Simon: I think Eve would object to that.

Susan: Hi.

Simon: Hi yourself.

Dean: Oh for pity's sake. I thought this was about my book, CAUSING HAVOC?

Simon: My book is next. SIMON SAYS.

Dean: I know, I'm in it.

Gregor: Me, too.

Susan: :::Draws a deep breath::: Okay, Dean. Ahem. So your sisters are wonderful -

Gregor: Especially Jacki.

Simon: They're both lovely.

Susan: And Eve is -

Dean: Mine.

Susan: Well. That's sounds very caveman-ish.

Dean: :::shrug::: It's still true.

Simon: Sorry Susan, but you can expect nothing less than full comittment and 100% participation from a fighter.

Susan: Let's talk about that. What type of fighters are you?

Dean: MMA - Mixed Martial Arts. Meaning we fight in a variety of ways, all at one time. Sometimes it's a standup fight, using fists, feet, elbows and knees, and sometimes it's on the ground, with a little ground & pound action, or some submission holds that can do real damage.

Gregor: It's like the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) and Pride (Japanese version of same) but Lori was afraid of gettin' sued, so she calls our fight organization the SBC - or Supreme Battle Challenge.

Simon: But it's the same thing. Fighters from around the world compete in a variety of hand-to-hand styles, including wrestling, grappling, boxing, kick-boxing, jiu jitsue, judo, you name it.

Gregor: You win if you can knock out your opponent, choke him out, or submit him and make him tap out.

Susan: Tap out?

Dean: :::smiling again::: Cry uncle, more or less.

Simon: What it really means, in relation to the book, is that when Dean comes home to Harmony, he brings with him not only the capability to kick ass on anyone giving his sisters a hard time, but also a family of fighters who are tight and ready to back Dean without question.

Dean: Not that, in most cases, my sisters couldn't take care of themselves.

Gregor: :::in a whisper::: He's real proud of 'em.

Susan: I can see that. Well, this has been fascinating, boys.

Dean: Yeah, well, let's hope the readers think so, too.

Susan: Are you kidding me? I read the book. It's fabulous. You know readers are gonna be pleased.

Gregor: Romantic and sexy, huh? I mean, I know my parts were sexy.

Dean: Shut up, Gregor.

Gregor: Oh yeah, my sexy parts would have been with your baby sister. I keep forgettin' cuz she's so sweet and you... ain't.
But I can see why you wouldn't want to hear -

Simon: Dean, don't kill him.
Not in front of Susan.
That's right, sit back down and tell everyone how the book is full of great dialogue and good action.

Dean: It is.

Susan: Yes, it is, I guarantee it. Readers will be very happy.
Now boys... :::Susan stands::: About that drink?

Dean: You've got it. I'll pick up Eve on the way.
But before we go, I wanted to tell the readers that around 4:00 on Valentine's Day, I'll be at a chat.

Susan: You will?

Dean: Yeah. Readers can ask me their most burning questions.
And to tell you the truth, I know a fair bit about Lori, too.
I don't know if she'll make the chat, but I'll have it in hand. The details will be up on Lori's website at www.lorifoster.com
Just use the link - you'll be glad you did.

JAYNE DISCOVERS THE SHOPPING CHANNELS

I love to shop. I've come to the conclusion that the world is divided into two camps: Those who like to shop and those who, uh, well, don't. I do not pretend to understand the latter group.

For me, the words "retail therapy" have deep meaning. There is nothing like an afternoon stroll through Nordstrom after a long morning at the computer to soothe and relax me. I don't always feel the necessity to make a purchase (don't tell Nordstrom) but somewhere inside I am always on the hunt. I savor the little thrill of wondering if this is the day when I will find the perfect blazer or a pair of jeans that are actually comfortable, maybe even a lipstick that will stay on for more than five minutes. I appreciate retail establishments that pay attention to the art of the shopping experience by providing exciting displays and attractive interior design. I also appreciate good service and knowledgeable sales people.


Having said all this, it turns out that I am a couple of decades behind discovering the pleasures of the television shopping networks. For ages I never paid any attention because I assumed that there would simply be no fun in it. How could that kind of shopping provide the full array of tactile and visual delights associated with the in-store experience? Television shopping sounded like it would consist of nothing more than watching an endless string of commercials.

Boy, howdy, was I wrong!!!

Enlightenment came soon after I bought a large device cleverly designed to instill excruciating boredom in the user -- an elliptical trainer. My wonderful engineer husband, Frank, set up a new flatscreen t.v. for me to watch while I did the hamster routine on the exercise machine. For a while I watched television news and the weather channel. When that grew too depressing I moved on to foreign soap operas and the country-western music channel. When those were no longer enough to hold my attention, I started flipping through arcane channels that I didn't even know existed. Televangelists, talk shows starring mean-spirited hosts, cooking shows, home improvement networks. I tried 'em all

And then, one glorious day after a futile search for a new episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter, I happened upon a charismatic woman selling the perfect pair of silver earrings. Those earrings had my name on them. I have never looked back.

Now, after months of watching brilliant, talented salespeople (these folks are GOOD!) demonstrate everything from cookware to necklaces, I have become a devoted addict. They even gave me a special little card with my very own customer number. Woo hoo!

It took me a while to figure out just why I enjoy shopping shows so much but I have finally come to the conclusion that it is the modern, updated version of that quintessential American shopping experience: the guy at the fair with the slicer-dicer thing that can replace every tool and device in your kitchen. Remember those heaps of incredibly thin sliced carrots? The curlicue potatoes? The instant mound of sliced cabbage for coleslaw? And all demonstrated without so much as a pause in the fascinating sales patter. That was an art form. And I'm here to tell you that it is alive and well on the shopping channels. Operators are standing by.

So, what do you do while you're spinning the hamster wheel?