Welcome to Running With Quills, your online newsletter designed to keep you up to date with what your favorite authors (that would be us) are doing throughout the year. Here you will find the release dates of our new books and get information about our backlists. We'll preview our cover art here long before the books hit the stores and we'll keep you informed about works-in-progress and special projects. You'll also receive advance notice of signings and appearances. From time to time we'll give you a peek at our worlds, tell you what we're reading, and introduce you to some new authors.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
JAYNE with another excerpt from DARK LIGHT
First, those of you who are riding out the fury of Hurricane Gustav (including our brilliant webmaster, Cissy Hartley of www.writerspace.com) please know that we are all thinking of you. We've got all my fingers and toes crossed. You folks who live in hurricane country have guts!
On another note, I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who bought and enjoyed DARK LIGHT. I'm so glad so many of liked the book because I had a lot of fun writing it.
By the way, fans of my ARCANE SOCIETY novels might be interested to know that the first chapter of the next one, RUNNINGHOT, is included in the back of DARK LIGHT. Check out that cover for RUNNING HOT! I love it. I think it is my favorite of all my covers ever. Meanwhile, here's another taste of DARK LIGHT. "I did not come here to talk about myself," Sierra said. "This was supposed to be an interview with you.” She closed her notebook and slipped it into her purse. “But it appears that isn’t going to happen so I might as well be on my way.”
“You surprise me," Fontana said. "I didn’t think you’d give up so easily.”
She got to her feet. “I don’t mind wasting your time but I’m not real keen on wasting my own.”
“Sit down, Miss McIntyre.”
“Why?”
"Because I am, as the old saying goes, about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
"Are you threatening me?” she asked . “I hope you won’t take it that way.”
"And if I refuse?”
He smiled. “You won’t.” “Why won’t I?”
“Because I’m going to give you a shot at a real exclusive, the biggest story of your career.”
"Sure.”
“You don’t trust me, do you?” he said.
“No farther than I could throw you.”
He watched her with a steady, unwavering look. “I’m dead serious.”
It was the word dead that aroused all her journalistic instincts. Okay, maybe he was serious.
“This would be a guild story?” she asked warily.
"Yes.”
"What, exactly do I have to do to get this hot exclusive?"
Servant: The Acceptance is the 2nd book in my "supernatural urban fantasy thriller" series. Yep, that's what they're calling it!
Tonight, Friday, August 29th, I'll be doing a short radio interview with COS radio. The live show begins live at 8:30 Eastern, and runs 15minutes. Anyone who wants to call in to talk to me on the show can do so by dialing 646-200-4071. The show is aired LIVE at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/Circle-Of-Seven and an active chat session is online
I'll also be doing a local signing on Saturday, August 30 from 1:00 to 3:00PM at Waldenbooks, Western Hills, 6139 Glenway Ave., Cincinnati, OH 45211.
And last but not least, I signed on Wax Creative to have them redo my websites. They've already made great progress on my http://www.llfoster.com/ website, so check it out when you get a chance. After Labor Day, we'll get started on the http://www.lorifoster.com/ site. I'm looking forward to it!
Servant: The Acceptance hit stands last Tuesday, so I figured I'd celebrate by sharing an excerpt, a book trailer, and a video interview.
EXCERPT
Chest to chest, thick anger undulating between them, he sought words that would somehow convey all he felt – the resentment and relief, the concern and...
So much more.
Apathetic to his mental struggle, Gaby looked at his mouth. “How’d you find me, anyway?” She licked her lips, slow and sweet. “I’ve been quiet. I’ve been good.”
Luther couldn’t dredge up a single word.
At his lack of response, her gaze crawled up to his, challenging him and scorching him at the same time. “You know, Luther, I figured on never seeing you again.”
That notion didn’t seem to distress her at all. Luther wondered if his teeth would turn to dust, given how he ground them together.
Eyes narrowed, Gabrielle tipped her head. “But here you are.” She sucked in a substantial breath, which pressed her body into his. Drawling the words, she said, “Big. Tall. Strong Luther. That golden orange glow around you shows great self control.”
God, she sounded the same, just as confusing and infuriating, as if nothing had happened, as if people hadn’t died and monsters hadn’t existed.
Her voice softened. “You’re holding back, Luther. But what? Anger?” Her attention returned to his mouth. “Or something else?”
Hoarse with an aberrant yearning, determined to maintain control of the situation, Luther pointed out, “You’ve been knocking around johns.” And thank God she had, because her abuse of the flesh-peddling clientele had enabled him to locate her again.
Quiet satisfaction chased away the last remnants of her odd transformation, showing him the Gaby he’d grown to know so well – or at least, as well as anyone could know an elusive enigma like her.
“Only when they deserved it, Luther.” She relaxed her shoulder blades against the wall, tilted out her hips to press into his groin. Uncaring of how he held her wrists so tightly, nonchalant to any threat he might pose, she said again, “Only when they deserved it.”
God almighty, would he ever figure out her many quirks and idiosyncrasies? Now that he had found her, would she find a way to slip away from him again?
Would she forever unbalance him with discrepant desire so foreign to his nature that he couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t decipher it or even name it?
“Why, Gaby?” He hadn’t meant to growl, to show his loss of discipline, but damn it, there were so many unknowns with her. A million of them.
Hopefully she caught all that the simple question encompassed.
All that he wanted from her.
I hope you enjoyed that small taste of "Luther vs Gaby." It's been a real tug of war with those two already, but yes, eventually they'll work it all out - I'm a romantic at heart!
And here's a video interview was done at the RT convention. Remember, I was running back and forth between hotels, and sadly, I never sleep well at conventions, so... I was mega tired that day, and you can tell. I look ready to...
But I still very much appreciated the interviews. Overall I did 4 of them, the one I mentioned about concerning my L.L. Foster books, one for our special charity book, The Power of Love, one for my SBC fighters, and one on my "muse." Sweet, huh?
So, what did you think? If you read the excerpt, did it tempt you at all?
How many of you read outside the romance genre? Any horror or straight urban fantasy fans? Do you like series, or prefer stand-alone books? Who's your favorite romantic character who appeared in a scary book or movie?
Yes, we're annoucing the "Dog Days of Summer" contest winner a wee bit early since Elizabeth Lowell is off to faraway places and won't be blogging, and Lori Foster will have her own blog on Friday.
Judy F. wins all these fabulous prizes: Judy F., if you could email Lori Foster at lorilfoster@gmail.com and give her your snail-mail address, she'll share it with the other Quill authors and your prizes will be on the way!
Everyone, we hope to do more contests in the near future. Do you have a suggestion for a contest theme title? Labor Day is too close. LOL How about Halloween? Thanksgiving? Christmas!
We hope you all enjoyed the blogs during the "Dogs Days of Summer" contest time period! Thank you for visiting with us!
Wowzers, FBI (friends, brothers and inlaws:), sometimes it's a bad idea to get up in the morning. What a week I've had.
The most important thing to write is that I'm grateful for family, friends, wonderful people who do difficult jobs, efficient folks just showing up without complaint and, above all, God's kindness.
On Tuesday morning while sitting at the computer I got horrible chest pain and--long, short--took a trip to the hospital by Medic One and spent the entire day in emergency. The good news is that my heart was not responsible for the pain. The jury is still out on the gall bladder:) And that's more information than you want.
What I'm left with from that day, is an amazing respect for emergency medical responders. Within four minutes of the call going in, they were in this house and shortly afterward they could administer a twelve lead EKG. Impressive. And not once was I made to feel a nuisance or foolish. I felt a nuisance and I felt foolish but I did that all on my own!
Fast forward a couple of days and several must-attend-to-right-now family issues and arrive at Friday.
The world, my friends, really does have an inordinate number of creeps walking around. In the afternoon I handed over a credit card to pay for a purchase and it was declined. "Gasp," I said. "Why?" I asked. "Don't know but you can't use it," I was told.
I got home to find a call waiting from the fraud department of the credit card company. Cutting things down again, my card had been cloned, or whatever, and someone had managed to spend thousands of dollars in a few hours. Only today did we finally--I hope--get the leak completely blocked.
All of the two dollar charges at a Home Depot in New Jersey really had me puzzled until I discovered this sort of approach is standard in the "pinching other people's stuff" business. Those little charges are to test and see if the card is still working or has already been blocked. Imagine how they must have celebrated over the $4,000 jewelry purchase that worked just fine.
What's the point of all this? We can cope with just about anything that comes our way if we keep our heads and take things one step at a time. Both during my little health debacle and this credit theft, I encountered more and more people who knew what they were doing and did it! And they told me what I needed to know, and do, which kept me as calm as I needed to be.
All in all, I think this week as been a plus. I've learned a lot and gotten a valuable refresher course in how to say, "Thank you!"
Please take care of yourselves and your health. And although it isn't going to stop someone from ripping you off if they're determined enough, keep your eyes open and keep them on your credit cards. Don't let people walk off with them to take those imprints. Go along and watch the process. There's no reason for anyone to mind if they're honest. And take a peek at the ATM machine to make sure it looks okay, that there aren't any funny little wires, or tiny camera-thingies that worry you. Same goes for the gas station where a huge number of thefts take place.
Blessings,
Stella
What unexpected events have made an impact on you lately? Do you have any safety tips to share--on anything?
I spent last week on Hood Canal in a two bedroom cabin built by my father in 1959. There's nothing fancy about it, but, oh, mama, its physical location just flat-out does it for me. Spending an entire week there (which I only have the opportunity to do once a year) always refills my well. Hey, just look at that view. It never fails to lower my blood pressure and mellow me out.
We who share the cabin, plus a boatload of relatives from my mom's side of the family, all arrived the first Saturday of my vacation for the annual family reunion. That's an always noisy, confusing and very satisfying event. I got my hands on my 17 day old great niece, the Triplets' brand new sister--and managed to hang onto her for quite awhile before one of my cousin's snatched her away from me. My cousin Jan arranged a send-off for her dad, my Uncle Jack, who died this summer. We talked often and loudly. Laughed a lot. Ate too much. Business as usual, in other words.
Some of the kids patiently listening to Uncle Jack's favorite Josh Groban song before setting their message-laden balloons free
My cats hid in the woods until everyone went home (with their dogs) late Sunday morning. Around the same time that Mojo deigned to show himself, my son, who's a chef so therefore works different hours than most people, arrived to spend his weekend (Sunday and Monday) with us. The soulmate found Boo under the shed a couple of hours later. Over the course of the next 8 days, Mojo--generous soul that he is--presented us with a minimum of 7 mice. We learned to shut our bedroom door after a 2 am wake up where The Boys were chasing each other around the room. When I got up to shoo them outside I saw that Moj was packing another present for us in his mouth.
We saw innumerable seals. A couple of eagles and a heron. Kingfishers and Osprey and a bat. A mess of flying ants, which come out of this one log every night just after sundown. And a doe and her two fawns that we spotted once in the back yard and once on the beach. My sweet baby boy caught a steelhead. Even better, he fried it up in cornmeal and ladled a wine-butter sauce over it. YUM. We also ate oysters and crab courtesy of Hood Canal.
Our last Saturday night, Steve removed the sails from his boat and pulled the rudder and we rowed down to the state park. (I rowed there, he rowed back) It was almost fully dark when we got back and we were greeted by a black lab with a four foot stick, which he promptly dropped at my feet. I'm a chump for water dogs, so I threw it for him.
He flung himself into the water with great enthusiasm, swam out to get it and, of course, immediately brought it back it to me. What amazed me, though, was how mannerly he was. Steve still bears a scar below his eyebrow where Jude, our long-gone Irish Setter, laid it open with the bony point of her head when he reached for her stick one time as she was jumping up in preparation for the mad dash to fetch it. The lab was soooo much better behaved. He'd come out of the canal, walk up the beach away from us to shake out the water, then bring over his stick (or maybe hers--it wasn't like I could tell in the dark, but I called him buddy anyhow) and drop it couple feet from where I stood. He'd wait for me to toss it then launch himself back into the water to retrieve it and start the process over again.
I threw until I could no longer see to pick it up, then went and sat on the edge of the deck to see if I could catch a meteor streaking across the sky (only saw one all week, but it was an orange beauty). The dog followed me, dropped his stick at my feet, then backed off about ten feet to wait. I was pooped by then, ignored him and eventually went into the cabin. When I looked out, it was to see him retrieving his stick, which he trotted off in search of, I'm sure, a more indefatigable thrower. He had his routine down pat, but he was so sweet and non pushy about it that I'm pretty sure he gets more retrieving time in than your average water-lovin' dog. And he was, for me, the cherry on the cupcake of my vacation.
It's been a busy and often stressful year, and those 9 days were just what the doctor ordered. I came home refreshed and ready to tackle the last of my book. But how about the rest of you-- what have you been doing this summer? I know Lori's been RVing. Have you taken a vacation to refill your well, caught the sunset show to ease your soul, or enjoyed a moment observing the various wonders of nature, be it flora or fauna? Has your dog or cat or kid given you a good laugh?
Translation (from an old birthday card I found in my keepsake box): Happy Birthday to You!
Did you know that more people are born in August than in any other month of the year? (Including me.)
A few of the famous August-born include:
~singer Tony Bennett
~ NFL New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady
~ first man to walk on the moon Neil Armstrong
~ poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson
~ artist Andy Warhol
~ spy/dancer Mata Hari
~ actor Antonio Banderas
~ movie director Alfred Hitchcock
~ bestselling novelist Danielle Steel
~ singer Madonna
~ King Louis XVI
~ Mother Teresa
~ tennis star Pete Sampras
And last on my list, but far from least: actor Sean Connery
REMINDER: Don't forget we have a "Dog Days of Summer" contest ongoing here at RWQ for a prize package of books and assorted goodies described by Lori Foster in her blog of 7/31/08. On August 29th the lucky winner will be drawn from among those who have posted comments during the past month.
So, do you have an August birthday? Whenever your birthday, how did you celebrate your Big Day this year?
Jayne, here, with my guest author, Teresa Medeiros. Those of you who are already familiar with her work will be thrilled to know that she's got a hot new historical out right at this very moment, SOME LIKE IT WICKED. Those of you who haven't had a chance to read her yet are in for a thrilling treat. The thing is, no one, but no one does bad boys like Teresa. Enjoy!
Why is there always something so delicious about a bad boy in need of the love of a good woman? With SOME LIKE IT WICKED, I'd like to introduce you to one of the baddest boys I've ever written—Simon Wescott, an unrepentant rake who could be a descendant of Captain Jack Sparrow and an ancestor of Sawyer on LOST. In this scene, Simon is just realizing he's been outwitted by the bonny Scottish beauty who has braved the terrors of Newgate Prison to hire him to escort her to the Highlands.
Excerpt from: SOME LIKE IT WICKED:
As Simon watched Catriona knot the ribbons of her bonnet into a jaunty little bow, it took him several ragged breaths to identify the unfamiliar emotion coursing through him as anger. Simon Wescott didn't get angry. He got drunk. He got bitingly sarcastic. And occasionally, he got even. But he never got angry. And in truth, he wasn't angry now.
He was bloody well furious.
He hadn't been so thoroughly duped since he'd caught Philo Wilcox at the faro table with an entire deck of aces tucked up his sleeve. He had satisfied that slight by calling the man out and shooting him in the arse when he turned to flee instead of fire. He supposed society would frown if he inflicted a similar punishment on the cunning Miss Kincaid.
But that didn't mean he was without recourse.
He stalked toward her, kicking the stool out of his path. Something in his narrowed eyes made hers widen with alarm. She scrambled backward, betraying her first trace of genuine fear since finding herself locked in the cell with him.
"Why, Mr. Wescott," she said breathlessly, "was there something else you wished to discuss?"
"Oh, I think we've done all the discussing we need to do." He backed her up against the wall until there was nowhere left for her to flee. "But I can't let you leave here believing me remiss in my duties. If I'm not mistaken, it's traditional to seal such a bargain with a kiss."
Her hand fluttered to her throat. "Oh, no...I really don't think...it would hardly be proper if—"
He bore her against the wall with his body, cupped the back of her head in his hand, heedlessly crushing her bonnet, and brought his mouth down on hers, cutting off her protest in mid-squeak. If this was a devil's bargain, he was determined she would leave this cell knowing exactly which one of them was the devil.
But he hadn't anticipated that the softness of the mouth crushed beneath his would give him a taste of both heaven and hell. The scorching sweetness of her kiss tasted of nectar and ambrosia. The flames only licked higher as she twined one hand around his nape and clung for dear life, as if she were sliding down into some deep, dark abyss and was determined to take him with her.
Catriona had spent a thousand lonely nights dreaming of the kiss Simon might have given her in that sunlit barn where they had first met if she hadn't been so young and he hadn't been so jaded. She would close her eyes with a wistful sigh and imagine the tender communion of their minds, hearts and souls as his lips gently brushed over hers in a chaste caress.
This was not that kiss.
********************************************
So who is your favorite bad boy of all time? Captain Jack? Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Derek Craven from Dreaming of You? Tell us which bad boy makes YOU shiver with longing and is the most likely to turn you into a very naughty girl?
Have you ever had one of those terribly embarrassing experiences where you were unexpectedly caught looking your worst?
This past weekend we went to yet another RV park. We were having a great time, and I let loose a little more than usual - meaning I had the rattiest hair you can imagine, and no makeup, and because it was cool, I was dressed like a hobo. I had on my husband's flannel shirt, over a T-shirt, and the colors didn't even come close to matching. But I figured, hey, I'm at an RV park. No one is "dressed up." Lots of folks were walking around in their swimsuits.
It's not like I know anyone here. Right?
Ha! Hubby and I wandered to the RV park store to grab some firewood for the night, and they had inside... lots of books. Seems they do a book exchange for campers. Nice, huh?
Well, my husband - who should have been smacked - grabbed up a copy of "The Secret Life of Bryan" and said, "Hey hon, you want to try this one?"
I gave him the evil eye. You know the look. The one that says, "Don't you dare." But it was too late. The woman looked from the book to my husband and me, and back again, trying to figure out the joke.
She was very sweet when he ignored the evil eye and admitted the book was written by me. She even asked me to sign it to her. But boy, did I look horrible! I flipped to the back of the book to show her my author photo, proof that contrary to present evidence, I was NOT a bum.
Later that day, campers stopped by off and on to say hi, to visit... to ask about me being an author. All in all it was actually fun. Everyone was so sweet. But I do wish I hadn't looked so bad! If somewhere along the way you read something online about me looking like a hag... well, you'll know why.
Then when we were driving home, a car came up alongside my husband. The female driver stared into the RV, smiling and waving. Allen thought something was wrong with the RV. He started checking his mirrors to look along the sides of the RV! LOL The car pulled away, but came back again - shoring up my husband's conclusion that something was wrong. The drive waved some more, and even gave my husband the "thumb's up."
I was in the passenger seat, my bare feet propped on the dash, holding my laptop and typing away to a Tom Petty CD. When Allen finally told me that the car was back again, I said, "Maybe they saw the LL Fostr license plate and they know me."
I leaned around him, and sure enough, they started waving and laughing. Seconds later they came up on my side and waved some more. The drive gave me an enthusiastic thumb's up.
Of course, at that point, I looked even worse! LOL. But at least I had on sunglasses - a favored disguise by most.
All of that was almost as bad as when my builder pulled up early one morning and caught me in my PJs watering plants on the porch. I hadn't even brushed my teeth yet.
Or the time I ran into an old boyfriend when I was 4 months pregnant and didn't look pregnant so much as super-shiny and plump. But how do you say, "I'm just pregnant. That's why I look so wretched," to someone you haven't seen in forever?
What about you? Have you ever been caught looking your worst?
Are you a person who usually puts yourself together before going out, or do you face the world au naturale, uninterested in make-up or styled hair? Does a ponytail and a clean face work well enough for you, or do you want the hair just so and at least part of the make-up in place?
I wish I could go au naturale - but I'm afraid people would throw rocks. NOT that I'm a "formal" dresser. But I started wearing make-up when I was 15, and I don't feel presentable without it. At the very least I want my mascara on. LOL Plus I like to have on clean jeans that fit, rather than sweat pants or baggy shorts.
Just for fun, here's a photo of the license plate on the RV - with me a wee-bit more presentable than I was at the park!
I'm late, I'm late... I've got a good excuse . . .
Good afternoon, all:
I chipped a tooth and spent the morning going to Seattle and back to see the dentist. (That sounds as if I'm asking for a permission-to-be-late slip and I guess I am!) But then there was last night when we had three small grandchildren staying overnight. That's a topic for another blog.
CYPRESS NIGHTS is out and I'm getting wonderful letters from readers already. Here is a little snippet from the book:
Roche. He was the most unexpected thing to happen to her—in her whole life. Complex, certainly not a talker most of the time, when she was with him she didn't breathe quite normally and her skin became super-sensitive. Those were not signs that brought her any peace. They thrilled her, though. Quiet he might be, but he had a big personality and when it touched her she wanted more of him—even if the feeling made her stomach flip.
In the darkness last night he almost paralyzed me. I never knew that sensation before. He can't know what an enigma he is, can he?
When he looks at me now, by daylight, my breath rushes away. For moments I forget who and what I am. All I can I can think about is sex; what it would be like with him.
I feel this even in the forbidden daylight and it is strange, foreign, to a woman who was taught that she should hate the realities of intimacy. Michael only approached me at night, in the dark.
Since he died, when the shadows gather, what should be quiet hours, teem with distorted pictures, spin into a black miasma that is a mirror image of my marriage. I huddle again in the long, ugly nightgowns until my husband comes to rip at my clothes as if he was raping me. He assaults my body, spewing disgust with every stroke.
Then, when he is satisfied, he leaves me on my own.
What do I want? To see Roche by day when lust wakes up? Or to venture to him by night when terror could hold me back from him, or crack open and send me to swarm over him until I've sucked him dry?
Bleu felt wild, shocked. She stared ahead but saw nothing clearly.
"You're hovering," Roche said.
She started and everything came back into focus.
"Are you okay, Bleu?"
"Of course. I was just waiting for us all to catch up," Bleu said, avoiding looking at him, and pushing open the pink door into the café.
A wave of warm, fragrant air met them. Bleu smelled freshly fried beignets and the subtle sweetness of the powdered sugar they were dredged in, and realized just how hungry she was. She walked inside on unsteady legs, still reeling from thoughts and images she could not have imagined before she met Roche.
She felt him close behind her. He might as well be touching her with his body—stroking every nerve ending.
Well, rats. My fun post-conference stay with friends in San Francisco got cut short when I contracted a nasty case of asthmatic bronchitis. I'm slowly feeling better, but still not tracking all that well. Luckily for us all, I have a guest blogger today!
As a nonfiction writer, Elizabeth Gordon is a bit of a departure for us here at Quills. But if any of you are budding entrepreneurs or already own a business that you'd like to kick up to the next level, she's got a book for you! Please welcome Elizabeth.
=============================================================== Thank you so much for inviting me to blog on Running with Quills during my Chic Book Tour. F. Scott Fitzgerald put it best when he said, "Writers aren't exactly people...they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person.” Ain’t that the truth? And I can say with certainty that each of the six of you are a whole lot of interesting people.
As a businesswoman with a particular passion for helping women entrepreneurs create businesses that succeed with sass and style, I’ve wanted to write a guide book that spoke to women since opening my own consulting firm in 2005. I read a lot of business books while I worked for Fortune 500 companies and I read a lot more when I struck off on my own. And truthfully, most of those books nearly put me to sleep, others just re-canned the same old information. I wanted to write a book that I would want to read – one that would keep me intrigued and turning the page…a lot like a good novel does. That’s why my book, The Chic Entrepreneur: Put Your Business in Higher Heels uses contrasting fictional stories at the end of each chapter to reinforce the lessons taught.
Check out a short excerpt from my upcoming business novel HERE COMES THE BUSINESS: HOW TO SURVIVE THE STARTUP IN STYLE:
Background note: Twenty-four year old Charlotte Young is struggling to create an event planning business in Atlanta, Georgia. While she is a resourceful hard worker, she cannot seem to make her business lucrative. Charlotte moonlights as an alcohol promotions girl in order to make ends meet and finance her fledgling business. She is desperate to uncover the secrets to turning her company into a flourishing business. In this bit, she decided to splurge on the haircut and go to Cherry, an established salon in the upscale section of Atlanta called Buckhead. She was going to see a less-experienced and thus less expensive stylist, so the cut wouldn’t break the bank. Still, it was costly considering her meager budget. Cherry created a huge buzz around Atlanta since it’s opening two years before. Charlotte is eager to find out what made it so special…
For the past two years, Charlotte had been getting her hair cut at Scissors, which was next to the dollar store in a strip mall a few miles from where she lived. It was convenient and inexpensive, but every time she got home, she found that she had to pull out her own scissors to snip some chunk of hair that had been overlooked. After each visit, she felt wholly unsatisfied with the thirteen-dollar bargain haircut.
When Charlotte entered Cherry, she was greeted warmly by the receptionist, Ami, who showed her to a changing room. There, Charlotte traded her own shirt for one of the twenty pressed black T-shirts with big red cherries on them hanging on the rack, and put on a clean black robe. When she walked out, Ami offered her a choice of sparkling water, herbal tea or a mimosa to drink.
As Charlotte sipped her tea and reclined on a leather couch in the sleek reception area, she flipped through the latest style book. She noticed that, unlike the books that sat on the front table at Scissors, the models’ hairstyles were not perms from the 1980s. She took a deep breath of the delicious, cinnamon-scented air and looked around. Everything at Cherry was modern and stylish. From the business card holders on the front desk to the art on the walls, not a detail had been overlooked. Charlotte felt like she had arrived. A posh-looking woman walked in and Ami introduced her as Lola, Charlotte’s stylist for the day.
Lola was tall and lean and had a short bob of black hair that angled down around her ovular face. She wore a black pencil skirt and a black, scoop neck top just like the other Cherry employees, but what set Lola apart were her large, bright red lips and her sparkling, blue eyes.
Charlotte was used to getting her haircut by Marge at Scissors. Marge was average in height with a pear shaped body that was unfortunately accentuated by a different floral-patterned spandex outfit at each visit. Charlotte was a firm believer that spandex was strictly to be worn for workout attire. Marge was very nice, though. She and Charlotte got along well, but something about the way Lola presented herself made Charlotte feel good and gave her an automatic confidence about the coming haircut.
Charlotte found it interesting how presentation had such a strong influence on the perception of service and quality. Lola hadn’t even done anything yet and already Charlotte was giving her rave mental reviews.
Charlotte followed Lola into the salon and sat in the soft, black, leather chair and wondered if this same principle applied to the perception of her business offering as well. As Lola moved the chair up several inches and began running her hands through Charlotte’s long blonde hair, giving her scalp the occasional soothing scratch with her long fingernails, Charlotte looked into the mirror in front of her and thought about how the quality professional cut she wanted was just part of what she was buying at Cherry. She was paying for the whole experience and that’s what made it worth the higher price.
“Okay Char, what were you thinking today?” Lola asked with a bit of a northern accent that Charlotte couldn’t quite place.
“Well, I need a big change. I think I want to go short, but not too short. Professional but also fashionable and stylish, ya know?” she asked in a hesitant voice, hoping that Lola would understand.
“What kind of work do you do?” Lola asked quickly.
“I’m an event planner,” Charlotte said.
“Oh really? With who?” Lola asked.
“Um, with myself… I mean, I have my own business,” Charlotte stammered as she watched her face blush in the mirror.
“Wow, good for you,” Lola said, surprising Charlotte with admiration in her tone. “I’ve always wanted to have my own salon, but I’ve never had the guts to do it. You are so brave.”
Shaking off her embarrassment, Charlotte sat up straight and said, “Thanks, but I haven’t quite made it to the big time yet.”
“Well when you do, it will be pretty sweet,” Lola told her. “Jimmy, the owner here, he stops in to check on things once a week. Walks around, talks to everyone, gives managers an update, looks at some reports. Spends the rest of his time hanging out with his wife and kids. He basically only has to work when he wants to. Nice life, huh? So back to your look…”
“Yes, well, in order me to build a successful business like Jimmy’s, I need people to start taking me and my business more seriously. I’m good at what I do, and I really think I need to look more like a successful business owner, not like some kid fresh out of college.”
“I know exactly what you need. If you’ll trust me, I’ll give you a look that says, ‘I’m on top of it.’ We’ll do short with some layers to keep the body under control.”
Just hearing Lola say these words with complete confidence and understanding, Charlotte knew that she could trust her. This would be a big change, but she was ready. It was time to create a new self-image for this sophisticated and successful, “on top of it,” planner.
“Okay. Let’s do it,” Charlotte said.
Lola gently massaged Charlotte’s head, neck and shoulders before washing her hair and getting to work on the cut. As chunks of blonde hair sailed to the floor, Charlotte fell into a lull and started thinking about the differences in the two places that she could get her hair cut, Scissors or Cherry.
Scissors was a small space in a high-traffic part of town. It ran on low prices and high volume. The shop was nondescript, with slightly dated décor revealing their intent to keep their costs down. Despite seeming busy, it was always minimally staffed. The goal seemed to be to get customers in and out as quickly as possible. Marge had never asked Charlotte what she did for a living. Even though she was a regular, there was no real relationship. Often, there would be only one or two people working in Scissors at a time and the same person who was cutting hair would also have to answer the telephone every time it rang and greet the customers. Many times things fell through the cracks at Scissors. Customers weren’t taken care of on time, appointments weren’t in the book, the precision of the cut was off, the dye bottles didn’t get refilled. It was a mediocre salon.
Charlotte was sure this lack of professionalism was responsible for the missed pieces of hair she ended up trimming herself later on. Undoubtedly, Scissors would stay open for years to come, limping along, but the chances that people would remain satisfied and faithful to it and make it a highly prosperous salon were slim. People like Charlotte would end up getting sick of the low price/low quality tradeoff and go elsewhere every now and then to treat themselves. These same people would eventually start to make more money and leave Scissors for a better place and never return.
Similarly, the best stylists at Scissors would also realize that the loyal, big tippers were going elsewhere. They would seek out another salon that did more to build a strong brand and a reputation with a good clientele that allowed them to reach their professional goals. Scissors would remain a perpetual training ground for those fresh out of beauty school and a dumping ground for those with minimal ambition and desire.
Then there was Cherry, a place that ran on high quality, high prices and loyal customers. Charlotte looked around and saw rows of chairs full of upscale clients and trendy, skilled workers cutting hair with the concentration and passion of someone crafting a sculpture. Cherry radiated wealth and success.
When her cut was complete, Charlotte’s hair looked so healthy and sharp she could hardly believe the difference it made in her appearance. Now she looked like a real businesswoman. Charlotte wondered what other changes she needed to make in her life that were this simple and yet would have such a dramatic impact. -- Stories are the best ways to learn – that’s why personal history is always passed through stories and not charts and graphs. Sometimes it is not enough just tell people what to do. It is more powerful when you can immerse them in a story that shows them how and why and leaves them with a lasting artistic impression as well as practical advice. If you could learn business lessons through dialogue and an entertaining plotline that you could relate to, would you be more tempted to buy and read a business book?
When my friend and fellow Quill, the talented Stella Cameron, pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago that RWQ debuted in 2006, I was skeptical. Au Contraire, I exclaimed, surely it can't be that long ago. So, I looked back in my files and there it was: Blog #1 on January 1, 2006. Stella was right! I was wrong. I was also flabbergasted. Even dumbfounded. That’s over 2½ years ago, folks. Who knew we’d still be going strong in the summer of 2008.
Which brings me to the point of this blog. I'd like to take a moment to express my personal “thanks” to Celeste and Cissy (without whom I'd never have a photo or a graphic to go with my little rantings), to my fellow Quills, to the readers who stop by and to those who also take the time and energy to post comments. And to the interesting variety of guests who visit and share their stories and books with us. We are a community of readers and writers. We share our opinions, our experiences, our recommended reads, sometimes even our recipes. :-) (See my recent blog about searching for veggies to go with the Perfect Salmon.)
So, thank you one and all.
Now please tell me (because I've always been the curious sort): What keeps you coming back to RWQ? Happy Blogging! ~EG
Greetings, friends, the next Jayne Castle novel in my Ghost Hunters series arrives in stores on August 26. For those who enjoy the books, I’ve got a little taste of the story for you. It involves the traditional Ghost Hunter wedding night ritual….
A fifth ball of energy flared in front of Sierra. Involuntarily, she took another quick step back. She was no expert but it was obvious that the new ghost was hotter and more tightly wound than the others.
“Oh, damn,” she said.
Fontana leaned one shoulder against the wall, folded his arms and contemplated the ghosts as though they were novel inventions he’d never seen before in his life.
“This is for you, Sierra,” Jeff explained earnestly. “The boss is going to show that he’s worthy of you.”
“The only way he gets you is if he gets through our ghosts first,” Simon said.
Kay giggled. There was a lot more muffled laughter in the room, mostly from the women.
This was not about proving anything to the bride, Sierra thought. It was about generating a lot of ghost heat. It was common knowledge in certain quarters – hair salons and ladies’ restrooms, for instance -- that hunters got sexually aroused after working ghost light. It had something to do with the testosterone-heavy, bio-psi hormones that flooded their systems when they used their talents.
The rumors about their sexual prowess when they were in the midst of a post-ghost burn were not unfounded, according to women who had dated guild men. There was a reason why the taverns and bars that catered to hunters in the Quarter were also popular with college women on spring break and bachelorette parties.
“No offense,” Sierra said, striving to project firm authority, “But you’ve all had a little too much to drink tonight. I really don’t think any of you should be working ghost light in a confined space.”
They ignored her, watching Fontana for his reaction.
“What do you say, boss?” Andy asked. “Is Sierra worth working your way through five ghosts?”
Fontana looked at her over the tops of the ghosts that bobbed between them.
“Oh, yes,” he said, nerve-shatteringly serious. “She’s worth it.”
Servant: The Acceptance is the 2nd book in my "supernatural urban fantasy thriller" series.
Fast forward a couple of days and several must-attend-to-right-now family issues and arrive at Friday.
Or the time I ran into an old boyfriend when I was 4 months pregnant and didn't look pregnant so much as super-shiny and plump. But how do you say, "I'm just pregnant. That's why I look so wretched," to someone you haven't seen in forever?
I chipped a tooth and spent the morning going to Seattle and back to see the dentist. (That sounds as if I'm asking for a permission-to-be-late slip and I guess I am!) But then there was last night when we had three small grandchildren staying overnight. That's a topic for another blog.
Greetings, friends, the next Jayne Castle novel in my Ghost Hunters series arrives in stores on August 26. For those who enjoy the books, I’ve got a little taste of the story for you. It involves the traditional Ghost Hunter wedding night ritual….