The Suburban Frontier

I've decided that I live on the edge, the gray area, the restricted zone between neatly pressed suburbia and backwoodsy country. As the sirens are going off, I'm driving down a shortcut to reach my house and notice 4 or 5 people standing at the edges of their driveways, looking up at the sky and probably listening for the freight train tornado sound.

And then I passed an actual, live, clucking, befeathered chicken on the side of the road.

I turned the corner, drove a couple hundred feet, and turned into my subdivision. The streets here are deserted, no neighbors, no chickens, just closed garage doors and neat lawns as far as the eye can see. Somewhere, I drove over the imaginary border between here and there. I wish it were visible. I would spend more time thinking about the crossing over if that chicken were the gatekeeper at the border checkpoint.

As it is, I've spent some time thinking about how it feels to be within spitting distance of chickens and storm chasers. I've decided to rename my subdivision the Suburban Frontier. It brings to mind the image of tumbleweeds of grass clippings and peaceful streets enforced by the white hats of the homeowner's association.

No Rapture, no words either

Spent most of today at a local writers' conference. I've been looking forward to spending a little time with people who like to write. Some of them are multi-published, some are actively pursuing publication, and a few are dabblers who like to talk and dream. I'm in the middle category and I usually like to spend time with writers in all stages of the game, but there are those, the "experts" who tend to set my teeth on edge. Don't get me wrong: I go to these things to learn from people who've gone before. What gets me is the lecturer who pats herself on the back and chortles over inside jokes and she's the only one inside. I don't care for that. I looked around the room at rapt faces and figured I was the only one with a sour grapes internal monologue going, but that didn't really change my opinion. Also, why, why, why must we put down one genre to elevate another? I guess it's just nice to feel better than.

Note to self: if you ever make it out of rehearsal and into the show, try not to be a know-it-all pain-in-the-a to the people who come to you rfor advice, 'mkay? I suspect it will be a battle but I think I'm up to it.

Revise and Resubmit

As a beginner, I love to have the opportunity to revise and resubmit. I've been lucky enough to submit to two different editors who have given me feedback to strengthen my story. The first was a novella and I got a rejection after I resubmitted but it came along with a very nice encouragement from the editor and an invitation to submit future stories directly to her. That's wonderful! And then I sent it out again to New Concepts. They'll be publishing it.

On my first full length story, I sent it to a larger publisher and got back a form letter rejection. This and another similar incident have made me think less of the editor. Form letters are easy, right? I'm sure with the stack of submissions that must come in that it's difficult to give a rejection anything extra, but a single, pointed sentence would have made a difference. So I sent that story to another publisher and got an invitation to revise and resubmit. Feedback helps. Positive feedback mentioning the things that she liked? Priceless.

I threw in the towel and sent off the resubmit after adding 12,000 words. I don't think I'm hoping for acceptance but anything that keeps me growing along this path is appreciated.

Review: When You Dare by Lori Foster

Some writers are automatic purchases for me. I mentioned Amanda Quick/Jayne Ann Krentz/Jayne Castle eariler. Another is Lori Foster. She's been an automatic for me since Too Much Temptation (which you really must read if you haven't read it. I have it. It's a keeper.) many, many books ago.

I downloaded When You Dare as soon as it became available and never have I been more thankful for the color capabilities of my Nook than with this cover. It's truly a work of yummy art, right? That chest is perfection.

And as for the book, Foster does again here what I enjoy so much: she makes good heroes. Dare is tough, capable, deadly, and honorable. His tenderness shows in a concern for women, his friendships, and devotion to his dogs. And I'm sure it's the last that pitched me head first into love with Dare. Add to that total hotness and you have romance hero perfection.

I also enjoy Foster's average-girl heroines. Molly seems a little less average than others but is still very much girl-next-door in the face of Dare's over the top abilities. She comes across as a little vulnerable but still capable.

The action's good, and I enjoyed Chris and the dogs. Oh, and the sexual tension is seriously good in this one. I would definitely recommend it.

Also, if you are fan of very fine manly chests, check out the trailer for the book. Two words: hubba hubba.