There is yet another letter in the RWR claiming erotic romance novels are simply “out-and-out pornography” with “a thin, little plot.” So, how many books, I wonder, did this writer have to torture herself with before she concluded such a thing. Inquiring minds really, really want to know. I’m sure, for the interest of humanity at large, the poor soul suffered through hundreds, maybe thousands of pornographic romance novels. How very giving of her!

Dear Writer of the Nasty Letter in the RWR. If you came into contact with the head editors for, say, Harlequin, Bantam, Kensington, NAL, Virgin/Black Lace, Berkely or Grand Central Publishing, would you tell any of these editors, to their faces, that they have no idea what a romance novel is? Would you tell any of these editors that they can’t distinguish plot from, say PORN? Just wondering.

I was also wondering why some people feel such a huge need to create animosity within the romance genre. Why the need to condemn? What possible good does it serve?

There are many sub-genres within romance that I don’t care for. But it would never, ever occur to me to put those writers down. Writing a book is hard. It’s fucking hard. It doesn’t matter what genre you write in. Writing a NOVEL is HARD. It could be a secret baby book, it could be a shifter story. It’s HARD. And, it’s even harder to sell that book once one actually finishes it.

So why, I wonder, do some feel like the world needs to hear their judgments? Why do some want to put others down? I’m really, really curious. And a whole bunch of my colleagues are really, really curious, too. We’d love to hear your wisdom.

While you’re thinking, check out this video on Lauren Dane’s blog.

As for the rest of us, you prostitutes of integrity, how do you ever live with yourselves?

Ah to sleep or not to sleep. That is the question.

Me, I’ve been choosing to sleep. A LOT. I’m not quite sure what’s going on. I’m wondering if it’s some sort of RT post-catch up or something. Going to a conference, you can expect not to sleep much. Of course, that was exactly the case. Waaay too much staying up late and getting up early.

But that was a couple of weeks ago so why am I still playing catch up? I ususally can function on seven hours a night. I normally stay up til at least eleven so I can write after kiddos are asleep.

Last night I decided I wanted to read for a while. So I took my new book (Gena Showalter - yay!) and my new RWR magazine and settled in. Read one article in the RWR and promptly zonked out.

That was at 9 p.m. people!

I feel like I’m turning into an old lady. What is up? I mean come on, this is a sexy/naughty blog and here I am talking about SLEEP.

At least I put a sexy pic up right?

What disturbs you?

For me it’s listening to the pres saying that the “bonus” money from the IRS (the one to SPUR economic growth) is to help offset the rising cost of gas. There’s something so incredibly flawed there that I can’t even put it into words.

And then there’s this tidbit from Hollywood Reporter.

Gary Coleman, wife head to ‘Divorce Court’

Transcript reveals couple discussing their issues

Associated Press

April 27, 2008, 08:06 PM

Gary Coleman, 40, and his 22-year-old wife, Shannon Price, are set to appear on TV’s “Divorce Court” on May 1-2.

Among the problems the pair discusses with Judge Lynn Toler are Coleman’s anger and intimacy issues.

“If he doesn’t get his way, he throws a temper tantrum like a 5-year-old does,” Price says, according to a transcript of the show obtained by the Associated Press. “He bashes his head (against) the wall, too.”

Do I even need to comment?

Outside that is. Seriously, sometimes you just need to unplug from the computer and get out and about.

This weekend I took my daughter and her half sister away to my parents cabin. There’s no internet. Well, unless you consider sitting next to the phone and plugging into it and using AOL. Dial up. I bet you saw my shudder. I go up there to write usually and just relax. The lack of internet can be a big bonus.

With two kids, it wasn’t quite as relaxing or productive in the book sense, but I did find my inner child. She was in there. Hiding. Waiting to come out. I took the girls out rowing in the boat on a small lagoon. It’s full of seaweed and is icy cold (especially this time of year), but with it being the first nice days in weeks, the girls jumped right in. The shallow area of course, but still. They were frolicking and not afraid to get cold or dirty. I had the biggest urge to just jump on in with them! (Not enough clothes so I had to pass ultimately)

I’m a nature girl at heart. I really am. I enjoy getting out and about, reacquainting myself with the outdoors, but I haven’t done it enough. That’s my vow. To change all that. My next goal is to walk down to the base of Snoqualmie Falls with the kid (it’s only a mile trip round trip, but maybe not so easy with a four year old!) And if you notice, many of my books tend to have the outdoor themes in them at times–including the one I’m writing now.

So how about you? Do you get outside and bond with nature much? Or are you pretty much an indoor chickadee? Or chico. Hee hee.

If Fowl Language offends you, don’t watch. I mean he does have tourettes!

I know on this blog we talk a lot about the hot men. And sometimes hot chicks as well. And that’s all fine and dandy. I mean, who doesn’t like the beautiful people? They are quite fun to fantasize about. However, today I want to blog about what truly matters to me: my girlfriends. Fuck Brad Pitt. And Angalina! I’d rather hang with my Naughty and Spice sisters any day!

Maybe it’s because I just returned from RT, maybe it’s because I’m all excited about the Sex and the City movie coming out. Whatever the reason, lately I’m feeling very grateful for my lovely ladies. The fact is, I need my girls. Who else understands the perils of womanhood/ romance writinghood/motherhood/sisterhood/whateverhood. I mean, we all have hoods, right? Let’s just take a minute to celebrate our hoodness.

For example. Back in Pittsburgh I had a bit of a female issue. It was unexpected. So my dear friend Eden Bradley and I wandered down to the local drugstore. The place was empty…except for the one other lady in the one aisle I happened to be wandering around. Of course, she was to be a fellow writer with a hood. And you know what? I wasn’t embarrassed. I just smiled and said, “Oh, I’m here picking up a personal item that is very personal and I can’t really name it. Tee hee.” The girl in the aisle (kay, it was Eliza Gayle) said, “Oh, that! You talked about it last night in the bar!”

Of course I did.

But it was all good because I was hanging with my girls. They didn’t judge me when I ate too many French fries. When I spit my supposed veggie burger that was actually meat back into my napkin they just nodded in sympathy. And when I really, really needed a cocktail, guess who made sure I had my Stoli? My girlfriends!

And so right now, I want you to all go drink a Cosmo and toast to the sisterhood!

Cheers!

I am still recovering from RT. I had an absolute blast but the lack of sleep, food and general normalcy is enough to wipe you out upon returning home. It doesn’t help that the kids were in my face, I had a mountain of laundry to do and my daughter decided to smear a broken lipstick into the carpet. Yeah, welcome home Mom.

I have to share with you all, though, my surreal moment(s). You see years ago I started subscribing to the Romantic Times magazine. I was in my early 20s and really wanted to become a romance writer. So I thought I’d plunk down the cash and subscribe to the ultimate romance writer/reader magazine.

I eagerly awaited those issues. The reviews! The interviews! The constant Fabio covers (this was the early 90s after all)! But then life got in the way. I was married, working full time and going to college full time. Then I got pregnant. And I let my subscription drop.

Now here I was fifteen years later at the 25th RT convention. Seeing those posters of photos from past conventions made me remember pouring over them long ago in the pages of the magazine and thinking, “Wow, how cool. I’d love to go to one of those conventions.”

And I was there! As a published author! How surreal is that?

My other surreal moment? Housekeeping knocked on my door and I opened it to find not only the sweet lady who cleaned my room (the staff at the Pittsburgh Hilton were wonderful - it wasn’t their fault the place was a mid-renovated nightmare) talking with Bertrice Small! Yes there is Bertrice Small in her robe in my doorway!

She’s been around since I can remember. I haven’t read a recent book by her but I read plenty back in the day. And there she was! So strange. So awesome to see all of these writers you’ve admired, read, worshipped in the flesh. I think I’d flip my wig if I ever met Jude Deveraux. She’s one of the reasons I wanted to write in the first place.

Or Judith McNaught (ok I wanted to add a y to the end of her name so bad. I’m awful). Judith was at RWA last year and I MISSED HER. I probably would’ve squealed at her like she was a rock star. Another author who made me realize, “I really want to do this.”

And now I’m really doing it.

I’m going to sound like a sap but being at RT, meeting new people, seeing old friends, what an experience. It made me realize dreams can come true.