Eating my way across Chicago

A lot of people travel for the culture. They love to see every museum and church in the places they visit. I enjoy those things, too. But my true passion when I visit other cities, other countries? The marvelous built-in-the-age-of-craftsmanship architecture.

Well, that and sampling the foods the areas are known for.

The soul mate and I celebrated our 40th anniversary last weekend. Originally, I planned to throw a big party, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I didn’t want to spend my commemoration making sure everyone else was being taken care of. So we discussed it and decided to go somewhere for a long weekend instead.

We considered New York or San Francisco, because those are always fun towns. But then we decided to go to Chicago and see if my cousin Colleen and her husband Dave could join us for part of the trip. They’re two of our favorite people in the world and when they come to Seattle where Colleen’s dad and brother still live (as well as sundry other relatives and friends) there are usually so many people wanting a piece of their time that we’re lucky if we get two or three hours for just the four of us.

The weekend turned out to be all I could have hoped for. It was mellow, fun and rich with laughter. Steve and I always travel well together and it was such a bonus to have an entire day and a half with Colleen and Dave. We walked the town, shopped a little, and spent happy blocks of time in bookstores and coffee shops.

And, my, oh, my, the food!

Chicago is known for its deep dish pizza and we went to Giordano’s Friday to sample its famous stuffed pizza. We had to wait about an hour, but, man, was it worthwhile! The place is a madhouse of too many people waiting in too small a space (it was cold outside) but it was organized chaos. You place your order ten minutes after they put your name on the list, so that when you finally do get a table, you only have to wait about five minutes before your meal is delivered piping hot. We ordered a large pie and had them split the toppings—half veggie for me and Colleen, half meat and mushrooms for the guys. And I’m here to tell you, that baby was so tasty it could make a grown woman cry.

Colleen and Dave headed home late Saturday afternoon and the soul mate and I planned to go somewhere elegant for our anniversary dinner. Except, neither of us was really in the mood to do elegant. You know how sometimes you feel like dressing up and doing the town and other times you don't? Well, we really didn't. W'd been on the go all day and skipped lunch and we were hungry and didn't feel like stuffing our shirts. Steve had read about this tavern-restaurant called Twin Anchors that's been in business in Old Town since 1932 and is reputed to have the best barbecue on the north side. We decided to give it a try and hiked the couple of miles from our Gold Coast hotel.

It was...perfect. This was another joint that gets lines out the door, but we beat the rush and were immediately seated in a corner booth. The decor was far from fancy but the food was spectacular. Steve ordered their signature rack of ribs and the meat literally fell off the bones and wasn't overpowered by the sauce. I had giant prawns in the shells and they were messy but sublime. We shared main courses and side dishes alike and our delightful waitress Surass brought us a complimentary piece of caramel-drizzled, candle-topped cheesecake when we'd finished.

Many towns have restaurants like the these--places where the locals go and the tourists, if they're lucky, stumble upon. If you ever come to Seattle and like seafood, I'd recommend Ama Ama's. It's spendy but worth it. Or if you want fabulous Mexican food and don't mind the fact it comes with zero ambiance, you can't beat Taquaria Guaymas in West Seattle.

So, tell me. If I were to come to your town, where would you recommend I eat?

JAYNE GETS A LOGO

I think I've mentioned on more than one occasion here at RWQ that the Arcane Society series has taken over my life. In fact, I've got another book coming out this week -- the paperback edition of THE THIRD CIRCLE (Arcane Society # 4) goes on sale Tuesday.

Recently I decided that the series needed an emblem or logo of its very own.

Now, I don't know about you, but designing a logo is not an everyday project for me. I had no idea where to begin. I just knew I wanted something cool. Luckily, www.purplepapayallc.com, the folks who got me into the world of Facebook, found the perfect artist for all things Arcane. His name is Sang Han and below is the logo he designed for the series. I couldn't wait to show you. I am thrilled with it. I think that it is just perfect for a secret society dedicated to paranormal research that was founded by an alchemist, don't you?


The weird thing is that, when I first got the idea I had absolutely no idea of what the logo should look like. Sadly, I lack anything resembling an artistic eye. But Sang could envision what I could not see. And when he delivered the final version of my new logo, everything clicked. I knew it was exactly what I had wanted all along.

And now, here's a little taste of THE THIRD CIRCLE, Arcane Society # 4:


He possessed just enough awareness to know that he was a fool to believe that will power alone could contain the nightmares. Delbridge’s poison had been churning through his blood for at least fifteen minutes, doing its foul work. Now it was in full control. The astonishing thing was that he no longer gave a damn.

“Mr. Ware?” Leona’s voice came to him out of the darkness.

“Too late,” he said. "Welcome to my nightmare. Things are not so unpleasant here once you get used to the place.”

“Mr. Ware, you must listen to me.”

Hot lust surged through him. She was only inches away; his for the taking. He had never wanted a woman more and there was nothing to stop him.

“I can help you fight the hallucinations,” she said.

“But I do not wish to fight them,” he said softly. “Indeed, I am enjoying them. And so will you." He looked down at the crystal, intrigued. “What is this? Another one of my visions?”

“It is the aurora stone, Mr. Ware. I am going to walk through your dreams with you.”

* * *
What about you? Do you have an "artistic" eye? Can you envision how clothes should go together to make a cool outfit? Can you design a living room or decorate a table for Thanksgiving or create a "theme" party in way that look sophisticated and visually intriguing? I swear, the ability to pull off that kind of artwork is a true psychic talent!

Sincerely,Jayne

eBook Readers: Choosing the best one!

Hello Quillers!

I have Devyn Quinn guest-blogging with us today for a special "Go Green" campaign. I hope you'll all give her a giant Quill welcome!

Before we get to today's blog topic, I'd like to thank the authors of Running with Quills for allowing me the chance to join them today. As some of you might know, All Romance eBooks is sponsoring a Go Green/Read an eBook campaign. As one of their ambassadors, I am here to sprad the word about eBooks and how fabulous they are.

As an author who has been in on the eBook revolution since it began in the early 90's, I found myself fascinated by the idea of books in a portable, paperless format. I'm all for eBooks, and anything that gets people back to reading for entertainment.

There's only one problem I've found and, for me, it's been a big one. What is the best way to read an eBook? I have to admit that the idea of using my work computer is unattractive. After all, I sit behind the computer all day working on my own projects. When it comes time for pleasure reading, the last thing I want to do is look at the monitor some more! I could print the book—except that some eBooks disable the print function. Printing the book also defeats the purpose of eBooks. It wastes expensive ink and paper, something I'm not inclined to do in the first place. I purchased the book because of its portable format. It's supposed to be easy and convenient to read. But it's not! My problem is that I have yet to find the perfect eBook reader.

Therefore I am asking readers this question: What eBook reader do you use, and why?

Give us the specs and tell us how the device you've chosen is the perfect one for reading eBooks. In other words, convince me this is the reader for me!

And since this is an eBook campaign, I'll be giving away free PDF copies of my gothic novel, The Keeper of Eternity, to any reader who emails me, saying they saw this article at Running With Quills!
Send your request to: admin@devynquinn.com.
__________

Devyn Quinn is a romance author and avid eBook reader, blogging this month for All Romance eBooks' Go Green/Read e Campaign.

Find out more about the Go Green/Read e Campaign at http://www.gogreenreade.com/

To learn more about Devyn, visit her website at http://www.devyquinn.com/

You can find Devyn's eBooks and thousands of other eBooks on-line at http://www.allromanceebooks.com/

I don't get out much, but when I do...

I’m not all that certain about the rest of the Quills, but I’ve discovered that my life as an author lacks a certain amount of glamour. I'm not complaining, but I had this image...and it's nowhere near the truth. My life generally consists of day after day after day hunkered down over a computer working on the current book, dressed in sweats, wearing bunny slippers on cold days and drinking way too much coffee or tea. When I’m not working on a new story, I’ve got copy edits to go over or page proofs that have to be back in New York yesterday—nothing in this business ever seems to be done in a leisurely fashion. It’s a job—the best job in the world, as far as I’m concerned, but it’s not all glitz and glamour and assistants waiting at my beck and call.

I do it all on my own, from my webpage to the dishes and laundry, to answering my fan mail to writing the books. My husband does the vacuuming and walks the dog among other things, but life in our household is generally pretty dull—I slip into my fantasy world and type until my fingers are tired, and my husband keeps the real world away so I can work.

However, every once in awhile, there’s a chance to get out and act like a grown-up. In my case, it happened last week when I flew to New York for the bi-annual PASIC (published authors special interest chapter) conference held in Manhattan. New York is where most of our publishers have their offices, so the conference is a chance to meet with our editors, publishers, production people, marketing folks and agents, but even more important, it’s a chance to surround ourselves with other writers.

We understand one another when we’re talking about the voices in our heads and whether or not our characters are in control (yes, they are) and the pressure of deadlines—or the fear of not having deadlines, of being orphaned when an editor leaves, or celebrating when a book hits one of the best seller lists.

Best of all—we get to wear our big girl, grown up clothes! I mean, this IS New York, right? It’s so exciting to put on something glitzy and grown up, to actually wear lipstick and comb my hair and NOT wear jeans and tee shirts--or sweats. We held a cocktail party for industry professionals and sipped drinks and ate hors d’oeuvres, and it was MANHATTAN! I mean, it was so cool, sipping drinks at a party in New York, conversing with editors and agents and thinking all along that yes, my inner-hick is alive and well, but I had that girl under control!

As much fun as I had, I couldn’t wait to come home. Talking non-stop is exhausting, but it was like getting stuck in manic-mode, being around so many like-minded people. A couple of my readers came into the city and we met for lunch, and I probably talked them half to death! (My apologies, Christine and Terri, but meeting you guys was an absolute treat for me!) New York is WAY out of my comfort zone, but the trip was truly a special experience.

I’ve posted some photos from the conference on “public” pages at Facebook—not all of them are labeled, but I’m trying to get as many names up as possible. Go ahead...take a look at authors trying REALLY hard to act like grown ups!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=84322&id=617301038&l=ab2eebf22b

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=84409&id=617301038&l=1b513c9a82

I might be without Internet for a couple of days, but I promise to respond as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’d love to know if you’ve ever done something that made you feel special even when it scared you half to death. That’s sort of how I feel when I’m at a fancy party with people who all seem perfectly at ease while I'm shivering in my heels. I love hearing your stories.

UNKINDNESS OF (C)RAVENS!

A group of crows is known as a murder. Another scavenger (pick, pick, pick) group, the raven, has the delightful moniker, unkindness.

How does the human mind hop, hop, hop :) from one piece of rarely used and largely useless information, to a whole topic? Darned if I know. However, last night I was in a state that frequently passes for sleep with me–drifting–and I recalled how Ruth Rendell once wrote a book called An Unkindness of Ravens. Bam, I was wide awake.

The Internet, that’s where the unkindness took me, and then to a mental picture of black birds with pointy beaks stabbing away at something long-dead, if it ever lived at all. Have you noticed that scavengers don’t fancy prey that might fight back? Twisting raven into (c)raven was the result of that thought.

How about the comments sometimes sent your way or mine, on the Internet, that would never be said to our faces? When I first heard the term, “flame war,” I thought someone was kidding. Then I saw some examples and was ready to run from this wonderful tool of ours before I got infected. Once I’d bought my kevlar vest I figured I was all set to hang around after all. But I still get sad when I notice someone who tries to build him or herself up by putting someone else down–and does it from the relative anonymity of a cozy cyber blind.

The Dalai Lama said, among so many insightful things, something close to, “Be kind whenever possible, and it’s always possible.” My thanks to Cissy Hartley who reminded me of the quote recently. I am not suggesting we should drip sugar from every pore, or lie through our teeth and say we’re crazy about something we hate, but what’s wrong with choosing to say nothing at all when no good will come from being nasty?

“I’ve read all of your books and I’ve hated every one of them.”

No, I’m not joking, that comment has arrived via email in the mail boxes of several writers I know well–including my own. “Sooo,” I think, “what is your point?” In fact the statement is very funny.

Where am I going with this. Believe me when I write that I tend to go where the idea and mood take me and that’s what’s happening now so there may be good fodder for nasty comments later:)

Because we can reach others so easily on the Internet, we have a formerly impossible opportunity to share thoughts and feelings. In recent days a reader let me know I had made a mistake in describing a Morgan sports car. She did it politely and added that she was really enjoying the book. Great, I’m cool with all that. Someone else asked if I would write more Spivey books (Mayfair Square) and I was able to have a nice “chat” with her about wanting to write historicals again one day.

Sometimes I’ll hear that someone doesn’t like a particular character, or the way a book ended. The latter is usually tied up with a reader being engrossed and not wanting the book to end without revealing more and more of the story. Unfortunately, stories have to end somewhere... And, naturally, there are all kinds of characters who still “need stories of their own:)”

But if a writer puts out a book a reader doesn’t like as much as some others, what’s the best way to deal with that? I’ll give some possible choices:

1. Hope the next book will please us more?
2. Accept that writers may not turn out stories using a pattern that never changes and decide to be more careful before buying another book by the same author?
3. Write to the author and tell them off?
4. Write to the author and explain the elements you found difficult, and why? And perhaps get a response that helps explain why the writer had to tell that particular story.
5. Go online in the most public forum we can find and initiate a rip and tear session with others who also didn’t like the book, or who will agree with you simply to enjoy the sport of piling on and pecking away?

This is one of those IMHO comments. I think what makes us want to keep on reading particular writers is their creativity, their sudden veering into a topic we hadn’t expected, or a new element that’s a surprise. As long as the book I pick up by an author I’ve read before lets me hear that author’s voice, I’ll go along. I won’t love every book the same, but the essence, or voice, of the author will engage me.

Of course I’ve read books I wished I’d never bought. I’ve thrown books away because they upset me so much, but I know that for every reader who felt as I did, there were hundreds who enjoyed the story. Hurt a child or an animal in a book and you’ll lose me:)

I’ve already posed a question above and I’d be very interested to get some answers, but I still need to wrap this up. We have incredible opportunities to share on the Internet. I treasure all the people who come my way with notes, questions, just a “Hi, how are you?” and I realize my life would have a big hole in it now if there wasn’t that special connection.
When I write a book–and I’m into my paranormal trilogy (Court of Angels) now–that’s different from anything I’ve done before, I’m going to keep on hoping my readers will “hear” my voice in the words, and be willing to travel with me in a new direction. If they can’t, I hope they’ll shake their heads, maybe write and ask me, kindly, what I was thinking, and give at least one more of my books a try:)

And here’s the marzipan and icing on the fruitcake: The alternative term for a group of either crows or ravens is . . . Storyteller. As in a storyteller of crows or a storyteller of ravens!

Blessings,

Stella

Kate Welcomes Robyn Carr

I’m in New York this week for a conference and a chance to meet with my editor and agent, but I am absolutely thrilled to introduce my guest, Robyn Carr, who is posting in my place. I met Robyn a couple of years ago when I read the first book in her wonderful contemporary romance series, Virgin River. I didn’t just read it once—I read it twice, and then I decided I had to meet this amazing woman who wrote so beautifully. So, I did what every sane fan of a good author does—I stalked her. Literally followed the poor woman all over the RWA conference in Dallas. Finally, after she managed to dodge me on every occasion, I left a note at the spot where Robyn was going to sit for the literacy signing and told her I was stalking her, and would she please introduce herself and put me out of my misery. She was gracious enough to do exactly that, and to her credit, she’s forgiven me. (I hope!) It’s with great pleasure I introduce Robyn Carr, who will be celebrating the release of the seventh (I hope I’m right!) book in the series, PARADISE VALLEY. Please give her a resounding Quills welcome, and thank you, Robyn, for filling my spot so beautifully.

~kate

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

First let me say what an honor it is to guest blog with my favorite authors, true Goddesses. Thank you.

When Kate asked me to fill in, she suggested I talk about visiting the actual Humboldt County setting for the Virgin River Series. I’ll go you one better. The whole thing began many years ago when I went to Mendocino County to hear Alice Walker read to a literary group. To say it was a momentous occasion for me would be an understatement. But it was after that reading that the creation of a northern California town was born.

I was standing on a country road with a local when a helicopter flew over. It was painted in camouflage and I said, “I didn’t know the Army had an installation out here.” He replied, “That’s not the Army, that’s the DEA. This is the biggest illegal marijuana growing area in the country. You know — the Emerald Triangle. Humboldt Homegrown. You know?”

I hadn’t known. Recall that sound your cell phone makes when you get a text message. My brain went ping. Yeah, I can work with that! So I developed a small town in northern Mendocino County called Grace Valley. It involved a woman town doctor, a sexy undercover DEA agent and all the quirky town folk with a story arc that spanned three books. My readers loved it and begged for more, but I felt that story was complete. My solution, a few years later, was to invent Virgin River in Humboldt County, just a little north, but close enough for the major Grace Valley characters to visit the Virgin River characters. After all, my readers wanted more, but they really didn’t want me to mess with the happy endings in Grace Valley to create enough drama for more books! They just want to make sure their people were okay.

Grace Valley had its following, but Virgin River trumped it, and I believe it’s because, like Grace Valley, the series is anchored by a woman in medicine. Mel Sheridan is a nurse practitioner/midwife in this fictional town of six hundred; her specialty is women’s health. And women’s health does not stop with the mammogram — women’s health professionals are keyed up to watch for all women’s issues from domestic battery to the stress of caring for aging and/or sick parents. Add some hunky military men who enjoy that part of the world for its hunting, fishing, camping, et cetera and what do you get? A nice juxtaposition of women’s issues and romance.

It’s just a little spec of a town in the mountains where men of honor protect the town for the women they love. Oh — and did I mention there’s a lot of pot? Ping.

Living in this little town day after day has been so much fun for me, I tend to forget it’s a job. I’ve been back about five times since Mendocino and Alice Walker and every time I discover something new and exciting — but nothing quite as incredible as the natural beauty of the place. It’s staggering. It dwarfs you immediately.

And about Alice Walker — I wanted so much to be cool when I met her. I had and still do so admire her work. I was not cool. I got out about four words before I burst into tears, simply overwhelmed. And she took me in her arms — she’s smaller than me — and patted my back. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. And like all amazing experiences, like a seed, it grew.

Robyn Carr

Susan Presents: Sheila Roberts

Hey, everyone. My friend Sheila Roberts has a brand new book out. Please join me in giving her a warm Quillsville welcome.

Take it away, Sheila!

*************************************************************************************

WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I’ve always had a black thumb. Wait. Make that two black thumbs. I never understood the lure of gardening. All that bending over, getting dirty, getting sunburned and sweaty – yuck! So, how did a girl like me wind up writing a book about women who become friends at a community garden? It’s a mystery. It’s also a mystery how I suddenly caught the gardening bug. I think it had something to do with finding myself with a new house to landscape. (I know, I should have hired a landscaper, but, hey, I’m cheap.) Suddenly, I was hurking wheelbarrows of topsoil and beauty bark around my lot, and digging and weeding and planting. Let me tell you, manual labor is not only good for the soul; it’s good for the waistline. And talk about new flower mommy pride. Every time something new popped up or bloomed I was out with the camera, snapping pictures.

When I started LOVE IN BLOOM I was mostly interested in writing a story of growing friendship and romance, but as my garden adventures continued I couldn’t help but see how symbolic of life a garden is, and I knew I’d wind up adding gardening tips to the book. (Uh, not mine. I got the tips from expert gardeners.)
Here are a couple of the life lessons I learned as I took Gardening 101 at Sheila’s Place. The time and effort you spend now planting good things nets you something pretty down the road. Nurturing the good things in your life takes a lot of work, but the payoff is huge. I definitely saw a payoff in my garden. In spite of the heat, the sweat, and the sore muscles, I found a great deal of satisfaction watching everything grow – you know, one with nature, and all that.

Well, mostly one with nature. We won’t talk about the morning I turned the air blue when I found the deer had eaten all the blossoms off my Chokeberry bush or the day I accidentally got downwind of my spray bottle when I was spraying deer repellent. Eeew. Or the flowers I pulled, thinking they were weeds. (Let me tell you the difference between a weed and a flower. Flowers are delicate and come up easily. Weeds have roots that go all the way from here to China.)
LOVE IN BLOOM is now going out into the world and, of course, I’ll take some time to admire the new baby. But then it will be time to get back to growing both the next book and this year’s garden. Soon I’ll be out there again, trying to become one with nature and accidentally spraying myself with deer repellent.

Are you a gardener, too? If not what hobby floats your boat?

JAYNE WITH THE VIDEO OF THE PERFECT POISON

On April 21st, the next book in my Arcane Society series, THE PERFECT POISON (under my Amanda Quick name) goes on sale. But Cissy Hartley (of Writerspace fame) and Paula Graves (who in another life writes terrific novels of romantic-suspense) have just finished the video for the book. I'm thrilled with it and I couldn't wait to show it to the gang here at RWQ.


For those of you who are fans of the series, this is Caleb's book. Yes, indeed, next month you're going to get the whole story behind the founding of the Society's psychic investigation agency. And you'll meet the second Jones in Jones & Jones.


So get the big box of popcorn and the giant soda from the concession stand, sit back, bring down the house lights and let's watch some video...

Hope you enjoyed it. By the way, those of you who are fans of the series might want to check out the new profile of Caleb Jones at my website. Something about the eyes...


I never get tired of film trailers. In fact, I always consider them one of the best parts about going to the movies. But I do realize that just about every author in the romance and romantic-suspense genres is now doing book videos. My question is, are you all getting tired of them? Do you even click on them anymore? Does a video raise your level of interest and awareness in a book? Or are you just plain bored with them?


Sincerely,

Jayne

Have you ever crushed on your best friend’s brother?

Everyone, forgive me for being late. Kay, I'm expecially sorry! Had a heck of a day and lost my mind for a short time. LOL

Everyone, please give a giant Quill welcome to my good friend and mega talented author, Kay Stockham!

Hi, Quills!

I hope the day is as pretty there as it’s been here. The sun has finally returned to southern Ohio—and with it, warmth! It’s glorious and I’m soooo in the mood for spring! It was so warm last Saturday that I actually hand-washed my car. Oh, the crud. Ick!

What does that have to do with the title of today’s blog? Absolutely nothing. I’m simply offering up hope to all of you out there who’ve been suffering cabin fever along with me. I had a baaaad case of it this year. If not for reading great books, I don’t know how I would’ve survived!

But back to the question in today’s post. My query is actually in reference to my latest release with Harlequin Superromance titled HER BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER.
Brings all sorts of things to mind, doesn’t it?

One of my brothers is four years older than me—the perfect age for me to have all sorts of crushes on his friends growing up. Truth be told, I only ever crushed on one guy, though. He’ll remain nameless for fear of complete mortification, but –oh my! All he had to do was breathe and, well, I melted. He was gorgeous!

The problem? I was (you guessed it) his best friend’s LITTLE SISTER, and therefore off limits. Gotta love the honorable ones, eh?

I actually think it had more to do with the fact that he was thoroughly yummy while I had... issues. Braces, bad hair (OMG, bad, BAD hair!), and was a general mess, but we’ll stick with the theory that he avoided me because he was the honorable type, ‘kay? (Don’t burst my bubble!)

Anyway, in HER BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER, Luke Tulane has a “thing” for his little sister’s best friend and while honorable, let’s just say things get a wee bit out of hand one night when Shelby finds herself in need of some good old fashioned, gotta-get-naked comforting. It’s a huge mistake she regrets the moment it’s over. Not because it wasn’t fabulous. It was—and then some! But because she has issues of her own, namely being the child of parents who hold the record at the county court house for the most marriages—to the same person. Yup, our Shelby has issues.

Fast forward a few weeks to Luke returning to his home state of Tennessee to find Shelby puking in the country club’s rose garden—on his shoes no less. Not exactly how a gal wants to make an impression! Then again, given how HOT things were between them that night, well, Shelby’s made a heck of an impression already. But why is she sick? As we all know, sometimes fate plays a hand in things, but when Luke tries to do the right thing right down to the proposal and ring, Shelby balks. She’s a strong, independent, Tennessee-based gal, while Luke lives in California and surfs on his lunch hour. A match made in heaven? Not quite.

Wednesday, March 10, was the official release date for HER BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER, book three in my Tulanes of Tennessee series, and I hope you’ll take some time to check it out. To read an excerpt or for a sneak peek via the video trailer, just go to my website.

And since I know it usually takes a prize to draw y’all out of lurk, I’m offering up winner’s choice of ANOTHER MAN’S BABY or HIS SON’S TEACHER, books one and two of the series. All you have to do is tell me some stories about you—and whether or not you’ve ever had a thing for YOUR best friend’s brother?

Have a great day!

Kay
www.kaystockham.com

ELIZABETH INQUIRES

I've got a question. Actually, more than one. But first, a little about the business of distributing fiction.

Once upon a time, there were hundreds of Mom and Pop distributors. They took the magazines they were given, put them out, and reaped a percentage of the sale. Magazines that didn't sell were trashed.

When paperbacks (then known as pulp fiction) were invented, they were sold through the same wholesale distribution network as magazines. And, like magazines, they had a limited shelf life and were trashed at the end of it. Ultimately, this form of delivery--paperback--became a huge success and had the print runs to back that up.

Hardbacks lived a separate life, sold by publishers to libraries, book clubs, and small independent bookstores. Their shelf life was measured in years, not weeks. But they were bought on consignment. Books that didn't sell after a year or so were returned for credit, intact, to the publisher. The publisher paid for transportation coming and going. Hardbacks paid more to the publisher, and they were more expensive to produce and sell on consignment. Eventually some books appeared in both hardcover and softcover. Chain bookstores sprang up. Everywhere.

A wonderful and profitable time was had by all.

That was then.

Now, there is only one big wholesaler left standing. Chain bookstores are cutting back on stock, closing, going bankrupt, or all three at once. Ditto for publishers. Carton after carton--millions of books, hard and soft--are being returned by outlets for credit. Unopened. Or left in wholesale warehouses to the minimal mercies of bankruptcy court.

Not a cheery outlook for people whose life is books.

E-publishing is the silver lining in the perfect storm. It's the only growing part of the fiction trade. It does away with the pernicious and so far unsolved problem of selling books on consignment.

E-books were once, like hardcovers, difficult and/or expensive to acquire/read.

Now you can download them on your cell phone.

Or on your Kindle, as I do. Three hundred titles and counting, plus I'm saving a lot of trees and hydrocarbons by having the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times delivered on my Kindle daily. No hassle, no wet or undelivered papers, no huffing trips to recyclers.

My question to you is ... how do you get your books?

By mail?

By browsing in bookstores?

By browsing in used bookstores?

Shipped from Amazon?

Borrowed from libraries or friends?

E-books?

Have you ordered print or e-books online?

Are e-books more/less desirable than hard copy?

I know, a lot of questions. And I'm counting on y'all for answers. You see, your choices today determine the future of book selling tomorrow.

Oh, to be in England...

On our recent trip to England we spent three days at a wonderful B&B (Bed and Breakfast) in the Cotswold hills. Former teachers (okay, once a teacher, always a teacher) Fay Gregory and Kirsten Marrs, who own the house, are friendly, engaging conversationalists, and wonderful hosts. And they can cook!

In one of our conversations I discovered that Fay is also a writer. Since I wanted to bring all of you some of the real flavour of being in England, I asked Fay to give you a peek at some of their experiences with starting and operating a B&B.


Fay Gregory:

Some time ago I realised that life was short, and if wanted to spend any of my working life somewhere other than a school, I had better get on with it. But what to do? Teachers are multi-talented people but often poorly regarded, at least in the UK ‘If you can, do; if you can’t, teach’ goes the saying, and it’s hard to break into a new career.

On a break away from all things educational, we spent a pleasant weekend in a stylish and modern B&B in Devon, run by two youngish people who were in no way frumpy or dull. ‘I bet it’s quiet here in winter’ I said, only to be told that, no, there was a year-round trade and a very good living to be had. That was it. Life change was in the air.

I lurked on the internet, then registered with property sites, then we got really brave and started visiting properties. We saw some dreadful places but the very worst was a converted old folks’ home and I honestly hope I go under a bus rather than end up in a place like that. The old dear who ran the place had her own bathroom, but it was at the other end of the house and traipsing about in her dressing gown in the wee small hours (get it?) had lost its appeal. So she’d called in the plumber and had a toilet fitted into her tiny, single bedroom. Yes, really. If you’d been lying in bed, you could have stuck a foot out from under the covers and rested it on the toilet seat. We’re English and mumbled, ‘What a good idea’ and ‘How very convenient’ and tried not to stare at the toilet.

After months of searching, we came across The One. It dates from 1902 and was originally the home of the station-master of Broadway Railway Station. It’s set in an acre of land complete with veggie patch and apple orchard, backs onto fields and sits alongside a footpath that used to be the railway line to Stratford upon Avon. Broadway itself is an old coaching village in the Cotswold hills (2 hours west of London) and is so unbelievably picturesque, you expect Mr Darcy to canter past. The village looks like it’s either a 1700s time warp, or a film set. In fact, if you’re familiar with movies, Bridget Jones’ Christmas visit to her parents’ was filmed a short walk away. Broadway’s main street is lined with lopsided, higgledy-piggledy buildings, some thatched, some roofed with the local slate, all built from local honey-coloured stone, and all with low beams to bump your head on. There are ye olde tea shoppes and ye olde pubbes, and a village green where they hold the annual Craft and Produce Show. Our garden won “Best Large Garden with Help’ for the last three years and Barry (the Help) is keen to enter again, so no pressure there, then!

We jumped through the multifarious hoops which is buying a house in England and finally last August we set off in convoy with Glenn, our removal ox, at the head of the line. Gradually, we left the sound of traffic and the smell of aviation fuel for bird song, horses clopping past and the equally fragrant smell of the country.

Kirsten was elected to meet the estate agent from hell only to find that, contrary to the solicitor’s instructions, she didn't have the keys. There was a second awkward moment when we reached the house at 1pm to find the lady former owner sitting on the step surrounded by a small pile of belongings and a huge pile of produce from the garden - 'there goes your dinner' said Glenn, in a London humour sort of way. She was waiting for her husband to return from accompanying the van to their new place and she'd been waiting 3 hours! We were mostly very polite, even about the horribly mismatched begonias she had “borrowed,” until the husband finally collected her at 4pm and then the gloves were off. The begonias/wallpaper/artex/bedcoverings/crockery/3piece suite got a thorough verbal slapping, topped off by Glenn's understatement of the century, 'got a bit of decorating to do, then!'

We inherited Barry the gardener who told us within milliseconds that he would like to cut back the wisteria. He was concerned that it was working its way into the roof space and prising off the tiles, and his preferred solution was to cut the whole thing off about 6 inches above the ground. He was prepared to go a smidge higher, but only if I really, really wanted to. At least I think that's what he said - he's from Birmingham. Despite the language barrier, we are getting on famously because I have been on the wrong end of various management techniques and so I know what works. As a result, Barry is plied with tea and lemon drizzle cake and, in the season, he goes home with a bag of produce.

My family joined the work party and little sister Susan proved not to have lost her demon touch with the pruning shears. We have a garden swing which was completely overgrown until Susan got going. Now it's a beacon for lost pilots all over England and south Wales. Where it would have been uncomfortable for claustrophobics, now it's uncomfortable for agoraphobics. Even Slasher Barry was taken aback by the extent of the ‘trimming’ and middle sister Pamela eventually had to confiscate Susan’s loppers.

Early on, when we were still getting up at our old London work time, we spotted rabbits and foxes and even deer in the garden. We were used to urban foxes as a flea-ridden family took residence under the shed in our last garden (don’t ask), but these ones were different. Country foxes grow bigger and stronger than their city cousins, probably because they don’t live on a diet of leftover chicken tikka masala and chips. The rabbits and deer continue to visit but, due to getting up at a much more civilised hour these days, we have never seen the foxes again. Recently a male pheasant (we call him Percy) has taken to spending his twilight hours sitting on the shed roof, ‘singing’, if that’s what you call such an ugly throat scrape of a noise. He got himself trapped in the greenhouse twice this week too and, golly, it was such fun getting him out!

We’ve now been here six months and we’re enjoying it immensely. Glenn was right about the decorating and we’ve developed tennis elbow from so many hours with the paint roller, but breakfast for 12 no longer brings on a cold sweat and there’s a constant flow of interesting, friendly people to chat to. We’ve had walkers and writers, painters and Steam Railway enthusiasts, folks of all ages and all nationalities. Like teaching, two days are never alike and although there has been no fighting in the hall, no accusations of theft, and no ranting emails from outraged mothers, there have still been plenty of noteworthy moments; we accidentally turned all the lights out (twice) on some Japanese guests, and one security conscious guest bolted the front door so we had to get up at 3am to let in the last of the wedding revellers. Right now we’ve got Tony and Vince – two plumbers who are refurbishing the campsite down the road – which means getting up super early for the Full English with extra baked beans, and then next week is Cheltenham Gold Cup – a huge horse-race meeting when the house will be full to bursting. And we only just noticed it’s going to be an all-male week as there’s not a single woman booked in. Hmmm?

Spring is peeking out through the snowdrops and daffodils in the garden and overall, we like to think we’re doing pretty ok. The house is fresher and brighter, we have received some excellent reviews on Tripadvisor and a number of guests who first visited in the autumn have even returned for a second visit. With that happy thought, I may just go and put the kettle on for a nice cup of tea and some homemade cake – another bonus of this new lifestyle.

* * *

The Old Stationhouse
Broadway
Worcestershire, WR12 7DF
UK
Ph: 01386 852659
enquiries @oldstationhousebroadway.co.uk (email)

If you have comments, or questions about what it’s like to run a B&B, or stay in one (I’m an expert with many years’ experience) fire away. I sure we can depend on Fay and Kirsten to pop in with a few wry words.

PS. Fay makes the best jams and marmalade in the world–ask Jerry. And you haven’t indulged until you’ve eaten Kirsten’s cakes!

Things that worry authors...

Writing romances has got to be the number one coolest job in the country. I love sitting down to my computer every morning and wondering where my characters are going to take me. I love opening my email and finding notes from readers—whether they loved or hated my story, at least they felt something strong enough that it made them take the time to write. I even love having deadlines because those mean that I have contracts for more stories, that my publisher wants to publish my books and that there are readers out there waiting for the next one to release.

It’s all good, right? So what do we have to worry about? What could possibly go wrong...?

How about our books not getting to the bookstores? Not making it to the racks in WalMart or Target or the grocery store where you like to pick up the latest release? For an author with a book releasing, that’s a big deal, and it’s a problem facing the Quills right now—along with a lot of other authors who have books due to release in March and April.

With all the economic issues in this country, the last thing we want to worry about is the books actually making it to the shelves, but the company that does a huge amount of distribution across the country has locked their doors—including the doors to their warehouses where a lot of the new books are waiting for distribution.

What’s that going to mean? Well, it might mean that when you go to pick up Jayne Ann Krentz’s SIZZLE AND BURN, Book # 3 in the Arcane Society series, you won’t be able to find it. Or if you’re looking for Stella Cameron’s CYPRESS NIGHTS in paperback or BLUE SMOKE and MURDER by Elizabeth Lowell, or SCANDALIZED by Lori Foster, all you’ll find is a bare spot on the shelf. All those books are going to be sitting in boxes, locked up in warehouses, and eventually will be remaindered...covers ripped off and returned to publishers.


All is not lost, though. You’ll still be able to find your favorite authors’ newest books through your online book sellers—places like Amazon.com, BN.com, BAM.com and others will have them in stock, but we need your help. Please get the word out—let your friends know on the chat lists and email groups you belong to that the books scheduled for release over the next few months will still be available online, even if you can’t find them at the stores where you commonly shop for books.

Which reminds me—I’ve got a March release as well, an anthology: SEXY BEAST VI, with my story, CHANKU HONOR. This one introduces six new characters to the Wolf Tales saga that I think you’ll really enjoy. Logan, Jazzy Blue, Beth, Nick, Matt and the Deacon will have starring roles in some of the upcoming Wolf Tales books, so I don’t want you to miss their introduction to the pack.

I’ve rambled on long enough here, so I’ll leave you with a taste of Chanku Honor—and thanks so much for helping us spread the word~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tala risked a look back. Two of the young men she'd passed had broken off from the group and now followed her toward the memorial garden. Dressed in black, lips, noses and eyebrows pierced with metal studs, they both had the glittery-eyed look of chronic drug users.

Rather than risk a surprise attack, Tala turned and faced them. She sent out a mental call for help and hoped like hell Mik or AJ heard.

The larger of the two kept coming until he was well within her personal space. He reached out to touch her hair, but Tala twisted away.

She wasn't afraid, but she wasn't stupid, either. Just very, very pissed off. She raised her chin and glared at the jerk. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Bitch. Think you're too good?”

Tala heard something moving behind her, but who? She'd only noticed these two and her senses rarely failed her. She heard a low growl, sensed Chanku power-a wolven presence.

An unfamiliar wolven presence.

The kid groping her had his eyes glued to her breast. He grabbed her right arm with one hand, her left breast with the other.

Tala let her legs go limp, using her body weight to help her twist free, but his fingers tightened around both her breast and her arm.

Pain twisted through her body. She screamed in anger.

His friend screamed in fear and took off running.

A flash of gray knocked Tala to the ground. Her head hit the pavement, hard. Lights flashed behind briefly closed lids. She opened her eyes to a dark shape, spinning, snarling. Flashes of red, the coppery taint of blood. Nausea welled up with a rolling wave of vertigo when she tried to raise herself on one elbow.

More snarling and growling, a choked scream.

Another scream, behind her. A woman crying out, “Ohmygod, Nicky!
Ohmygodohmygod...”

Tala blinked. She was too close to focus. Her nostrils twitched with the thick smell of blood. Lots of blood, and bits of gray still spinning, a kaleidoscope of life and death and horrible sounds that seemed to go on forever.

Sounds that ended in a heartbeat, leaving only silence.

Susan Presents: Molly Harper

Don'tcha just love it when you discover a new author? It's like getting in on the ground floor of a really cool business. Mental wizard that I am, however, I came this close to blowing my chance of doing that with Molly Harper.

When a Pocket editor I've been friends with since '96 asked if I'd read another editor's brand new author and possibly give a quote for a book called Nice Girls Don't Have Fangs, I gotta admit my first thought was: not another vampire book. It's not that I don't like em, y'ken. It just seems as if, lately, they've been done to death.

Well, it just goes to show that it's all in the voice and the writing. Because, oh, mama, I enjoyed this book! Wanna little peek at what it's all about? You know I'm a girl who just can't say no. Well, that and I want you to say Molly Harper's books? Oh, yeah, I've been reading those since the very first one.

Susan Andersen turned me on to them.

Unemployment Sucks

When children’s librarian and self-professed nice girl Jane Jameson is fired by her beastly boss and handed a $25 gift certificate for potato skins instead of a severance check, she goes on a bender that’s sure to become Half-Moon Hollow legend. On her way home, she’s mistaken for a deer, shot and left for dead. And thanks to the mysterious stranger she met while chugging neon-colored cocktails, she wakes up with a decidedly unladylike thirst for blood.

Jane is now the latest recipient of a gift basket from the Newly Undead Welcoming Committee, and her life-after-lifestyle is taking some getting used to. Her recently deceased favorite aunt is now her ghostly roommate. She has to fake breathing and daytime hours to avoid coming out of the coffin to her family. She’s forced to forego her favorite down-home Southern cooking for bags of O negative. Her relationship with her sexy, mercurial vampire sire keeps running hot and cold. And if all that wasn’t enough, it looks like someone in Half Moon Hollow is trying to frame her for a series of vampire murders. What’s a nice undead girl to do?

Please join me in giving Molly a great big Quillsville welcome! And if you're in the Chesterfield, Mo., area, be sure to stop by her very first signing at 1 p.m. April 11 at the Barnes and Noble.

*************************************************************************************

When I tell people in my hometown that I have a book coming out this month, most of them seem to think I've written a children's book.

This is bizarre as I don't really give off a Mother Goose vibe. Frankly, I'm lucky that my own children like me.

Then comes the part of the conversation where I have to explain to my conservative friends and neighbors that, no, I didn't write an ode to teddy bear picnics. I wrote a vampire romantic comedy, titled, NICE GIRLS DON'T HAVE FANGS. And out comes a vaguely shocked expression on their faces that says, "Nice girls don't write vampire books!"

One acquaintance, after finding out that yes, this book would involve "steamy parts," looked disappointed and asked, "Why didn't you write a cookbook? I would have read a cookbook!"

Because, well, I don't cook.

I don't know what makes them more uncomfortable, knowing that I've written love scenes or knowing that I've written love scenes involving people with fangs. Not much about me screams "girl with bite-y fantasies." In high school, when other girls were going through their angst phase and writing poems about bleeding roses, I was writing essays about having absurd political arguments with my dad at the dinner table.

I majored in print journalism at Western Kentucky University and used my shiny new degree to get a job at my hometown newspaper. For six years, I wrote about school board meetings, quilt shows, and a guy who faked his death by shark attack in Florida and ended up tossing pies at a local pizzeria. Through my monthly humor columns, local residents came to know me as this goofy "nice girl" with little control over her mouth or gross motor function. I left the paper in 2006 and wrote most of the Nice Girls series while I was working as a secretary at a Baptist church.

But the minute people hear the word "vampire," it's like they start mentally x-raying me for hidden exotic piercings.

I'm not embarrassed by my work or my genre. I am proud of both. And I've worked hard to keep myself from explaining, "But I don't keep a coffin in my basement or anything," when I'm given the "piercings X-ray" once-over. My husband on the other hand, has been thrilled from day one and loves it when his co-workers ask if he served as the inspiration for my hot, broody vampire lead. I don't see the harm in letting him think he did.

So now that they've adjusted to the idea of my writing vampire books, the next question my friends ask is, "Well, is your next book going to be a children's book, or is it going to about vampires, too?"

I just smile and say, "No, it's about werewolves."

So my question, dear readers, is this: What about your reading or writing habits would shock your friends and neighbors?

JAYNE BRINGS YOU CHRISTINA DODD AND A PHONE

Jayne, here, to introduce CHRISTINA DODD who is definitely going to liven things up with a scene from her terrific new book, DANGER IN A RED DRESS, and an in-depth discussion of a subject that has not yet come up here at RWQ. (P.S. I finished the book last night. Ahem. Let's just say that I'll never look at a phone in the same way again. You will definitely want to read this one. I suggest clicking on the buy links at the bottom of the blog at your earliest convenience!!!)

CHRISTINA DODD HAS HER FIRST PHONE SEX

Oops. That should read, “Christina Dodd writes her first phone sex.” Obviously I’ve had phone sex. I am married, and I wasn’t born yesterday. (Shaddup, all you Quills.)

In DANGER IN A RED DRESS, I had a very unusual (for me) plot situation. Hannah Grey has been hired as a nurse and companion to the elderly Mrs. Manly, and as she makes calls for Mrs. Manly, she “meets” Trent Sansoucy. Each phone call is more intimate than the one before it, and she falls in love with his voice and his personality. Unfortunately, Trent is lying to her. He’s really Gabriel Prescott, he’s in the security business, he’s been hired to spy on her, and while she talks to him, he’s watching her on surveillance equipment.

In this conversation, they know that tomorrow night they’re finally going to meet face-to-face:

“What’s your biggest secret?” Hannah asked.

“When I was a teenager, I was part of a gang. I got sent to juvy for a year. I was lucky — lucky to get caught, and lucky to get out alive.”

She imagined a young, black-haired punk in a leather jacket, slouching down a rough city street, always vigilant …

Wryly, he asked, “You’re picturing West Side Story, aren’t you?”

The image vanished with a small pop, and she giggled. He was right. She saw him snapping his fingers, ready to dance to the music in her head.

“I’m looking forward to meeting tomorrow night,” he said.

“I am, too.”

“Trent, “ he added.

“What?” Why did he say that?

“I am, too, Trent,” he insisted. “I like it when you say my name. I like the sound of it on your lips.”

Even though he was nowhere in sight, she didn’t know where to look.

“You know, when we see each other, it’ll be the first time, but we would recognize each other even if we’d never had this conversation. Our eyes will meet and we’ll just know.”

She pressed her legs together, shifted uncomfortably as the buzz of arousal hummed through her veins. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Am I succeeding?”

“No, but it’s fun to listen. Goodnight … Trent.”

“There we have it.” He sounded faintly humorous. “I couldn’t seduce you with all the words in the dictionary, and you seduce me with a single syllable.”

“Goodnight, Trent.” She listened to Trent groan again, and hung up.

Had he seduced her with his conversation? She’d told him no.

She was the world’s biggest liar.

She thought about how she would meet him tomorrow night, and how he couldn’t be as handsome and as wonderful as she imagined. But she kept hearing his groan as she said his name. He sounded like a man in the throes of climax.

And she … she was a woman who had been aroused by every word he’d uttered.

How about you? Have you ever been seduced over the phone? Have you ever fallen in love over the phone? What worked for you? His voice? What he said and how he said it? Or was it the whole personality?

Bonus questions — if you had never met him before, when you did meet, did he live up to your imaginings? Or was he a big, despicable liar, like Gabriel in DANGER IN A RED DRESS?

Thank you to my Quill buddies for allowing me to visit. I am looking forward to chatting with you!

Christina Dodd
http://christinadodd.com