HAPPY NEW YEAR

Wishing all of you a safe, happy, warm and friendly celebration to welcome in the New Year.
May 2008 be all you want it to be, and all you need it to be.

My New Year's Resolution is to stop all cursing. I'm working really, really hard at it. Sad, huh? But so far, so good. Unless I get really mad... then, uh oh. But I WILL give it up. I will. I will.
I'm determined that, as a writer, I can find better words to use. But ya know, sometimes the familiar ones just slip out. It's going to be an ongoing process!

Big hugs,

WWW.LORIFOSTER.COM

Off for the Holidays!

GOD BLESS US, EVERY ONE:) MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS

For just a little while we can pause, listen to the world breathing and see the faces we love afresh.

We are different, one from the other, with different beliefs, but in this time there's a joining--the start of the greatest dream of all come true: Peace.

Whatever your faith, I wish you peace and happiness.

Love, Stella

A Time for Giving...

Being that I'm very much in the holiday spirit, and that means I'm in a giving mood, while feeling incredibly blessed, I've been thinking a lot about my truly special friends - and the amazing things they do.
That brings me to Laurie Damron.
Laurie inspires me to be a better person, just by being such a wonderful person herself. You see, Laurie is the volunteer troop coordinator extraordinaire for the "Lori Foster Bookjunky Troop Effort." At this time of year, more so than any other, I think of our troops, where they are, and the special times that they're missing right now, and I want to burst with gratitude for what they do, and why they do it.
Our on-going Troop Project adds up to a LOT of work for Laurie. I, and other authors, donate $s, books, etc... that Laurie uses to raise more money for the troops.
Then she shops. And shops and shops and shops.
And she packs. And packs and packs.
And she ships. Oodles and oodles of great stuff.
I do the easy part - I hand stuff over to Laurie. Without her, our project wouldn't be nearly so successful. Laurie IS the project - and I love her for it.
Do you have any truly special friends?
Do you know someone who deserves a big pat on the back, or a hug of gratitude for giving unselfishly to others?
Do you, like me, get very emotional at the holidays, just thinking of all your blessings, and wishing everyone could have them, too?
I do, and because I'm feeling thankful for so many incredible good friends, I figured I should introduce one of the best to the rest of you.

Please welcome a truly phenemonal person: Laurie Damron.


Have you ever been away from home and all alone for a holiday or a special event? Maybe you’re not truly alone, just not with your friends or loved ones. Our deployed servicemen and woman are in that very situation for months at a time - just one of the reasons I enjoy working with Lori Foster to bring a little joy to some of the men and women serving our wonderful country.

I know that I’ve never experienced loneliness and fear to the degree that they have, let alone the absolute terror of some, not only being away from home, but in constant danger, maybe seeing friends and comrades wounded or even killed right next to you. I think of my family, safe and sound here at home, and how we owe our every freedom and privilege to the military men and women who have served our country for several decades.

These men and women “belong” to someone – they are sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, and they are away from their friends and loved ones for long stretches of time that include some of the most important holidays to us as Americans. Just think of all that they miss - births and deaths, first steps, school programs and sporting events, birthdays, anniversaries and graduations. They can’t jump in the car to visit someone, or make a late-night run for a candy bar or their favorite fast food, or make a scraped knee feel better with a kiss and a Disney character bandage – all of the little things we take for granted.

They need to know that someone at home, even a total stranger, loves and cares for them and wants them to feel appreciated.
They deserve surprises from home, goodies and snacks to sweeten their day, lotions to soothe desert and sun-ravaged skin, or a pretty candle to soften harsh surroundings.

We have been working together to send boxes to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan for almost four years now, and while I don’t have an exact number, we have shipped out approximately 800 pounds. Almost half a ton! Now that is a whole heck of a lot of happiness! The cards, letters and emails I’ve received in return have made me smile, laugh and in many instances, cry.

What can you do to help? Lori Foster started talking with a handful of us early last spring about a cookbook. The plan was for a small booklet, the kind that is folded and stapled, with recipe contributions from authors and readers. This cookbook, when all was said and done, ended up being professionally (and beautifully) published by Samhain Publishing titled THE WRITE INGREDIENTS, and it is positively gorgeous! The ongoing troop project benefits from the proceeds of each and every cookbook sold. This cookbook makes an excellent gift for friends and is perfect for stocking stuffers, or hostess gifts for your holiday parties! There’s still time to get yours!
Please visit any of the following to get a copy:
http://www.samhainpublishing.com/
http://www.amazon.com/
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/
Get a copy for your friends too!! And be sure to tell them who benefits from your purchase – you should be proud to be helping such a worthwhile cause.

Do you know anyone in the service?
Let's honor him or her on her. Please share - and Happy Holidays to you.

Thanks for your support!

http://lauries-laudanum.blogspot.com/2007/12/troop-boxes-are-on-their-way.html

* Troop items available at Lori Foster's Cafepress store:
www.cafepress.com/lorifoster

ELIZABETH ENJOYS AN OLD FAVORITE

"In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing."

Thus begins one of my favorite books, Norman Maclean's A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT. The novella is autobiographical in that it contains pieces of Maclean's upbringing in western Montana, the watershed events that made him the man he became. It is fictional in the sense that he made no attempt at what we think of as autobiography--a more-or-less interesting recital of the facts of a person's life. Instead, he simply looked at that life through a lens of memory, wisdom, and yearning. And then he shared what he saw.

A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT is one of the rare books I've read that made me laugh until I ached, made me feel a sense of wonder, made me cry, made me begin to understand one person's arc through life to infinity; and in this understanding taught me much about myself, my own arc to infinity.

I first read the book when it came out in the 1970s. I loved it, my husband loved it, everybody loved it--including both the New York Times and the New York Times Book Review. (In fact, it's one of the few books praised by the NYTBR that I have truly and thoroughly enjoyed.)

A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT was nominated for a Pulitzer. (Or was it a Nobel...? Whatever, it was a huge literary honor.) The committee couldn't bring itself to award the prize to a book that was so completely, well, Western. As one committee member was rumored to have said, "How can we give this book the prize? It has trees in it! So rather than reward a book with trees, the committe awarded no fiction prize that year.

Ah, humanity. Gotta love it.

But when I want to start screaming at human stupidity, I remember the laughter and wisdom of A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT: "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs."

Thank you, Norman Maclean. You left the world a better place than you found it. That is the only prize worth having.

Stella meets a mystery...

We've all got to slow down. All this rushing around, being so busy, making lists, making lists of lists, is putting the kibosh on a lot of opportunities. While we're making check marks beside names, then adding up the marks to be certain we have given an equal number of gifts to each one, that there isn't too big a disparity in what we've spent, there are wonderful things going on. And we're missing them.

Just last night I had an amazing experience and I only saw it because I made myself be quiet. Darkness had fallen. A light snow fell past the windows and in the distance I saw brilliant little lights shivering among trees in the forest.

Everyone else was asleep, even the furry ones. The silence became so intense I could hear it! And then came the sound of music made by wind playing with pine needles, riffling them, pinging them, stroking them until they sang.

While I watched, drawn outside by I knew not what, small folk in blue velvet suits with diamond buttons, rolled down tree trunks to the snow-covered forest floor, and they began to dance. Whirling and twirling, their fine gold hair flying about their heads, they trailed diaphanous ribbons of rainbow colors from their heels.

Do you know, they didn't actually touch the snow. They floated not more than an inch above, laughing, turning somersaults, and kissing cheeks.

From the sky fell glittering balls, pink, yellow, pale green, purple, and each one encrusted with sugar. The little folk opened their mouths and plucked the sugar plums from the air. They chewed and made mmmm noises and rolled their eyes and smiled.

That was when the whistle blew.

So quickly I hardly saw them move, those folk made smart lines and stood at attention, each one with a hand in a sharp salute.

They didn't stop chewing and the sugarplums kept piling up on top of the snow.

Bells rang. Not just bell bells, but music-making bells ringing higher and higher in songs so perfect, the little folk cried. And so did I.

In the silvered dark haze above the trees a tiny shape appeared--a long, long way away. The songs grew louder and sweeter. The vision got bigger.

I jumped and clapped my hands with joy. And I was afraid, too.

What happened then, do you suppose?

How am I changed today?

Do you think magic came to the Great Green Forest, or was I asleep and dreaming?

With love at Christmas,

The 3Fs--requisites for the Andersen's holiday

When I was little, I'd wake up
Christmas mornings around 4 a.m, so excited I could barely breathe. I'd head straight for my parents' room, where I'd rouse them to ask, "Is it time?"

"Not yet," they'd mumble around big yawns, so I'd go back to my room and thumb through a book for awhile before heading back down the hall to give it another try.

They'd usually cave around 6 since they were only getting to sleep in five minute snatches anyhow and it was clear I wasn't going to give up. But even then I couldn't go into the living room where the tree and the presents were, because my brothers and I weren't allowed in there until Dad had built the fire. It was tradition.

One that I didn't pass on to my own kid, remembering the pure torture of that final five minutes after everyone was finally up. We did, however, build traditions of our own.

One of our favorites is the Annual Christmas Tree Slaughter. This isn't a From-the-beginning one; that's the cool thing about traditions--it's okay to be fluid. Some are around forever, some are discovered later, and all are those that simply work for you. This one came about because of a lot-bought Christmas tree that dried out so fast I truly feared it was going to spontaneously combust in its stand. From that point on, I wanted to know when our tree had been cut--and the only way to do that is to chop down your own.

So in early December we drive out to this wonderful tree farm in Orting, Washington, where we meet family and friends and whichever of their kids/grandkids are available. We all scatter to select our trees (I'm a diehard Frasier Fir girl, myself--love the shape and that blue underside) cut them down and meet up again outside the netting shed to head to a cafe for lunch. It's a day I look forward to with great anticipation.

Another is my mother's annual Ladies Party, where there are usually four generations of women sitting around eating, drinking and doing what women do best: connecting.

We have Christmas Eve for the soulmate's side of the family at our house, and his sister always makes lefsa, a Norweigian potato/whipping cream pancake-like dessert. Christmas morning it's just me and my guys. But after we open gifts the three of us go down to Doug and Mimi's and have brunch with them and their two boys (men, now). Then it's off to my mother's to celebrate with my side of the family.

Connie Brockway did a great blog once on a tablecloth that they've had guests autograph over the past twenty or so years. We don't have a tradition like that. But we have our own that revolve around the 3Fs-- family, friends and food. And as long as we have those, I'm a blessed woman.

Tell me about your traditions.

Elizabeth G: A Few of My Favorite Things

These are a few of my favorite things during the holiday season, counting down a la Dave Letterman's Top Ten List. Only mine is a Top Seven List. (Why seven, you may ask. The reason is simple. I just realized it's my turn to blog and I have exactly seven spare minutes today. :-)

So here goes:

Number 7. In a word: Eggnog. (I love any and all things custardy --- is that a word? --- and eggnog is liquid custard in my gastronomical book.)

Number 6. Christmas specials on TV. (It's a tradition in our household. We always watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," "A Garfield Christmas Special," and umpteen versions of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol.")

Number 5. Christmas books. (I love rereading my favorites every year, including "The Other Wise Man" and "An Angel in Time," by our very own Stella Cameron.)

Number 4. Christmas music. (Not the kind you hear while shopping at the mall. No. No. No. I'm talking about the annual Holiday Pops concert given by our city's phenomenal Philharmonic Orchestra, along with a wonderful chorus and guest soloists. We end the evening with a sing-a-long. Sigh. This truly marks the beginning of the Christmas season in our house.)

Number 3. Christmas lights. (I've loved them since I was a little girl in a small town in Iowa. Now we make sure to drive out past The Orchard every year. It's not far from our house and whoever owns the property has thousands of lights on each and every tree. It is magical!)

Number 2. Time spent with family and friends. (Joy-filled. Precious. Memory-making. I always get teary, too, seeing those who are here and remembering those who are gone.)

Drumroll, please.

And my Number 1 favorite thing about the holiday season: Sitting in front of the tree on Christmas Eve with my husband after everyone else has gone to bed and the stockings have been filled and the house has that late-night quiet about it. We sit and share a glass of wine and count our many blessings.

Now it's your turn to share some of your favorite things about the holidays with the rest of us here at RWQ.

Happy Holidays to all!
~EG

Jayne Reads: COMING UNDONE

This is the next in my little mini-series featuring my thoughts and observations on recent books written by my sister Quills. There's a reason why the writers here at RWQ have been successful. The secret is that each has a unique, highly individual voice.

In case you haven't yet figured out why some writers appeal to you and others don't -- why you love books that your best friend finds dull and vice-versa -- the secret is the author's storytelling VOICE. If that doesn't work for you, then the book doesn't work for you. Period. Doesn't mean the book is bad; it merely means just that you didn't respond to the author's voice.




And that's why reviews of fiction are generally useless. All you get from a review is one piece of highly individual information: whether or not the reviewer responded to the author's voice.

So, in that spirit, I'd like to make it clear that I'm not doing reviews here. Instead, I'm trying to nail down what I believe each author delivers so successfully -- to me, at least. And then I'm going to give you a behind the scenes glimpse at what the author thinks about her own book.

COMING UNDONE by Susan Andersen

THE STORY: Sexy romantic suspense involving a hero and a heroine who have a history. Priscilla Jayne Morgan is on the brink of country music superstardom. Jared Hamilton -- the man she once idolized -- is hired to act as her bodyguard while she's on tour. (Hey, he's from Semper Fi Investigations. How can you go wrong with a hero like that?) There's also a stalker, a crooked mother and a lot of colorful country music characters. Mostly, there's great tension between the hero and heroine. Did I mention the Marine connection?

WHY I READ THE BOOK: I read Susan Andersen because I know I can count on her for strong sexual tension, hundred-miles-an-hour pacing and a lot of heart. She does a terrific job with relationships of all kinds, not just the one between her two main characters. She knows how to use family dynamics and friendships, to define her hero and heroine. Plus, in COMING UNDONE the heroine's middle name is Jayne -- with a "y"!!!!

WHAT I GOT FROM THE BOOK: A fast-moving romance with a fascinating cast of characters who feel true to their world. Susan uses language that is edgy, contemporary and authentic. When you're with the hero and heroine in a country-western bar you know it.

ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S UNIQUE TALENTS: She's not afraid of heroines with intriguing and unusual (in the romance genre) pasts. Think: Las Vegas showgirls and country music singers who came from the wrong side of the tracks.

WHAT THE AUTHOR HAD TO SAY ABOUT HER OWN BOOK:
"Jayne, this book was an honest-to-goodness labor of love, which I don't say lightly, as writing for me is generally not a flows-from-my-fingertips process. Both Jared and P.J. (my hero and heroine) first appeared as teenagers in an earlier book called Hot & Bothered. Jared, as the brother of that book's heroine, was a major secondary character. P.J, however, was only supposed to be a walk on character, a sounding board for his time on the streets. But that little girl just grabbed my imagination and refused to turn loose, and before I knew it I was expanding her part and plotting her book before I even finished the one I was contracted to write. My New Year's wish is that heroines of future books will bless me the way Priscilla Jayne Morgan did . :)"

LAST WORD: Edgy

Until next time....

--Jayne

Life with a Writer or Reader

Yes, it's the holidays. And I have a deadline looming. And lots of family visiting. And traditions that I don't want to forego. I'm totally involved in my current book, galleys for another book land on my desk, promo decisions need to be made and... ho boy!

But you know, I think I've done a great job of juggling writing and life lately, if I do say so myself. What it takes, in my opinion, is very careful planning. You see, when I have to take time away from writing for something, I try to fit as much non-writing stuff into that day as I possibly can.

Two birds with one stone, and all that.

People who don't write might think I'm looney. But those who've lived with me for awhile now, understand. I've wondered if life with a writer is similar to that of life with a die-hard reader. What do you think?

Filling non-writing time with as much as I an accomplish means that when my son invited my husband and me along for a holiday train ride with my grandson, I also scurried to put new highlights in my hair that morning, and did the newest batch of Christmas cards going out for those that had just arrived, but weren't on my original list.

The Holiday Train ride was fabulous: a 1/2 hour ride on the train with some rather tall elves singing, and lots of sticky candy canes to go around. When we reached the "North Pole," we drank hot chocolate and the kids got really neat balloon animals or flowers, photos with Santa and Mrs. Claus and Rudolf, then another 1/2 hour ride on the train back. As usual, everyone loved my grandson - he tends to steal the show everywhere we go - so he got extra attention from Santa, and he got to wear the train conductor's hat, and the elves posed with him while I snapped photos. The shier kids watched in awe.

Because this was a "day away from writing," I also uploaded and printed some of the photos when I got home, mailed some off to family and friends, and did other odd and end jobs that had been waiting for me.
As a reader, when you're pulled away from an engrossing story, do you try to get as much done as you can?

Last Wednesday, my good friend Dianne had a Christmas luncheon. That's us at Dianne's. In order from left to right, Carolyn, me, Dianne, Chris, and Judy. Others were invited, but man, we got a snow storm and it held some people hostage. Of course, this was my "day away from writing," already planned, so a blizzard wouldn't have kept me home!

It was a wonderful day of good food, good friends, and Dianne's incredible hostess skills. Let me tell you, events at my house mean decorative paper plates and plasticware. Not so at Dianne's! She's the hostess with the mostest. We had real silver, china, linen holiday tablecloths, gorgeous little holiday napkin rings, lit candles... I LOVE how Dianne does a luncheon! I leave feeling feeling like a princess.

The night before the trip to Dianne's, I made veggie pizza as my contribution to the meal, baked about 8 dozen cookies, most to be frozen, and wrapped gifts for my friends who'd be at Dianne's.

Hubby thought I was nuts making so many cookies - until I explained about the "day away from writing," and then, because he understands me, he helped.

That night, after the visit with friends, I used the rest of the "day away from writing" to take a super long bath in the jacuzzi tub to read a book. Perfect!

Now my holiday baking is done, but soemthing else fun has come up - a booksigning on Saturday in West Chester, Ohio, from 1:00 to 3:00. (Details are on my website) I'm looking forward to seeing all my author friends and some longtime reader buddies, but I'll probably go shopping early that day because I realize I need a new cabinet for our DVDs, and since that'll be a "day away from writing," well, you understand the drill by now, right?


As a reader, do you sometimes have to fit in a lot around reading/finishing a book? Before I became such a voracious writer, I used to carry a book with me everywhere I went! I read at stoplights, doctor and dentist appts, everywhere! And when I couldn't take my book, I tried to get everything else done to clear the path for some serious reading. What about you?


Has the holiday stuff forced you to give up some reading time, or are you like me, fitting it in as best you can?
Are you juggling reading with visits to multiple family homes, traditions that can't be skipped, work woes that are making things dicey?

For me, it truly gets nuts on occasion. Especially now that I'm halfway through the next SERVANT novel. I'm going from a gruesome mindset of mayhem and murder, to singing Christmas carols.

I'll never skip special fun time with family, but it does take creativity on occasion. I hope that, whatever you're juggling, you're still finding it fun, smiling lots, and making the most of the wonderful season!
And I hope those who live with you are understanding, as my husband, kids, and even my little doggies, are.

Big hugs, and the Happiest of Holidays to you!

ELIZABETH DISCOVERS A NEW (to her) AUTHOR

Well, actually, in the past few months I’ve had a chance to discover quite a few new-to-me authors. I just close my eyes, make a grab at my TBR shelf, sit down, and begin reading.

To be honest, I don’t finish every book I start. Some authors just don’t have “it” for me. Since I know that every reader has a different “it” factor, I won’t mention the books that don’t work for me, because I’m sure they are some other reader’s new favorite.

Besides, I’d rather talk about authors I enjoy.

Shana Abé, for instance.

I only wish I knew how to make my computer put in the proper accent over the e. But I don’t, so y’all will just have to imagine it there (unless my web goddess intervenes!).

Shana came onto my radar with THE SMOKE THIEF. I admit the cover hooked me. I figured if the book was half as evocative as the cover art, I’d be in heaven.

THE SMOKE THIEF lived up to the art and then some! I, who am not a big historical reader now, was completely hooked. This book is a timeless fantasy involving a woman born of dragonkind who lacks the ability to change into a dragon; a jewel thief born in the gutters who rises above them; a jewel that can enslave dragonkind; sacrifice; learning; suspense; and a forbidden love that simply refuses to be denied.

And did I mention that Shana is an exquisite writer? Her voice is clear and evocative, fairly humming with the completeness of her creation, unexpected and inevitable, a truly fantastic storyteller.


THE DREAM THIEF, the second in the series, was just as good.

QUEEN OF DRAGONS, the third book, is my Christmas present to myself. Can't wait for it to arrive!

PRESENTING THE SCARLET BOA WINNER!!!

Each year at my web site http://www.stellacameron.com/ I hold the Scarlet Boa Contest for writers who compete for the legendary... TA! DA! SCARLET BOA. I designate a scene topic and the entrants write around 500 words. This year the contestants' challenge was to present a paranormal interlude.

We are thrilled with all the talent that comes forward and this year's winner, in an excellent field, is RENEE L. MUNEZ . The following scene is from Renee's A HUNTER'S MOON chosen by those who voted for their favorite entry.

Be sure to ask Renee any questions you have about this scene, A HUNTER'S MOON or Renee's body of work and plans for her writing future.

Enjoy! Stella

Hey--Jerry's putting up our Christmas Tree--a 7ft palm swarming with lights. He is the best. I just got revisons for CYPRESS NIGHTS and I need all the help I can get in preparing for my favorite season of the year.

2007 Scarlet Boa
Scene #35

A Hunter's Moon

The sidewalks were crowded with people.

Maurika's eyes roved the passing throng, searching for one familiar face. Her skin tingled, reminding her of her purpose: she was tracking a man. A very bad man. And when she found him—she was going to kill him.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out several multi-colored tablets. Mostly Valerian, they contained a mixture of herbs that kept her from changing. Without hesitation, she popped a handful into her mouth and chewed.

The prickling sensation she'd felt moments before receded. Confident it was safe to look up, she stared at the heavens. The full moon was beautiful. A blue hue covered the surface, dripping color onto passing clouds that shaded the night sky.
Maurika grinned with feral anticipation. Tonight was a hunter's moon.

~ ^ ~

Loud music pounded Maurika's eardrums as she exited yet another bar. The door banged shut, blocking the worst of the racket. It had been a long night. She'd caught her quarry's scent hours ago, but was no closer to finding him.

Frustration made her grind her teeth. Fear made her lengthen her stride.

She had to find him before he killed another woman—the non-human variety. This killer preyed on psychics, werewolves, vampires—even cupids. The otherworldly called him The Reaper.

Who else could hunt down and kill the most powerful preternatural women in the world?

Certainly not a mere human man.

But that's exactly what he was.

Maurika had known the instant she caught his scent. She'd been able to give the killer's description—because she was The Reaper's only surviving victim. The Reaper had been unprepared for Maurika. He'd never seen her kind before.

She was a lunate—an older cousin to werewolves. Unlike the werewolves' forced monthly change, lunates changed once in a blue moon—the second full moon in the same month. Humans gave the lunates mythical names like Yeti, Sasquatch, and Bigfoot—and when she found The Reaper, she was gonna put her big foot right down his throat.

An odor from the subway stairwell caught her attention. She froze. The Reaper was close. His acrid body odor permeated the night air. Ears straining, she heard a female's muffled scream. Maurika pivoted and raced down the stairs.

Following the nauseating scent, she turned into an alcove. There he stood, thin as a scarecrow, skin as white as a ghost-like cadaver. His fever-bright eyes and rictus smile made Maurika's skin crawl.
"Took you long enough," he jeered. The knife in his hand slashed the woman's throat. A fountain of blood sprayed the ground.

"NO!" Maurika screamed.

"Her pathetic mewling got on my nerves," The Reaper taunted.

White-hot pain burned through Maurika's veins, a signal she was about to shift. Her rage fueled the process.

"There's no moonlight to help you this time, werewolf." He stepped toward Maurika. "You're next."

Waves of hair rippled across Maurika's skin. Bones lengthened. Claws appeared. She smiled, flashing her razor-sharp teeth. "I'm not a werewolf."


© 2007 by Renee L. Munoz - All Rights Reserved -->