Rather than post a new blog entry - which I suppose is actually what this is - I'm just going to link to a current interview which I did on another blog. The address is

http://amberkatze-amberkatze.blogspot.com/2008/10/author-interview-and-contest-with.html

Along with the interview there is a competition to win a signed copy of my latest book - The Rogue Hunter.

Best wishes and good luck

Lynsay

Well, no I did not die or fall off the face of the earth.  I have just been terribly negligent about posting, but then, it was because I was working.  Something that has been rather difficult with all the showings we were having.  Fortunately, that has temporarily slowed down while parents get their kids off to and settled in school. No doubt it shall pick up again in the next couple of weeks as people scramble to buy and get moved before Christmas.

As for me, I finished the last book and mailed it out the end of August (the third historical for Avon) and have since been scrambling trying to get caught up on all those emails from readers that I neglected while on deadline.  I finished the last of them tonight.  There were only about three hundred of them (emails are often slow just before the next release, and then I get a rush that slowly drops down to a drizzle after three months or so. This is the slow period).  Of course, that 300 doesn't include the business ones, or the fun ones or the ones from friends or the loops I'm on.  I have been scrambling, but it is done. 

I have also been reading A Bite To Remember and Vampire, Interrupted to get caught up on Tiny again in an effort not to make mistakes with his character or anything.  I was quite surprised to find I enjoyed the stories and got caught up in them.  This is surprising because by the time I finish each book I am sure it is a complete load of Dog Poop.  Yes, you heard me.  Each one I send out I think is the worst bit of drivel I've ever written.  This is, apparently, a common phenomenon.  At least among my friends.  Emails from my writer friends often start with the refrain "I'm on the last quarter of the book, the part where I'm sure it's crap and wonder what I am doing calling myself a writer."  This is sad but true.  Anyway, I could have sworn those books sucked, but it turns out their all right.  I used to be able to write. Maybe I can do it again (grin)

And that's what I'm up to next.  I am on to the next vamp (Tiny's story as I mentioned), and then I'll get a bit of a break, the first I've had since returning to Canada.  And a real break this time, not a couple days doing research or something like that, but actual months before I have to write the next one.  I am thinking that this will be when the house sells and I will be up to my neck in boxes and packing and then rushing about canceling power, phone, etc. and arranging it to start at the next place.  Ah well, better that then trying to do it while ON deadline, right? 

So that's all the news I have.  Boring, aren't I?  Oh!!  I know Mr. Spice has mentioned the Raccoons that have been visiting at the lower sunroom window (They actually climb up on the logs stacked up outside the window and look in at me like I'm a zoo attraction, which I suppose, for them, I am) But he hasn't got a picture or mentioned the other two visitors we had.  One was a skunk, which I did not see (Dave did while I was away finishing the last of my last deadline). I am now on high alert every time I go out, watching for the little beggar.  But the other was just the other night. I was typing away when I noted movement out of the corner of my eye and glimpsed what I thought was the raccoon come to visit.  I picked up the phone and used intercom to buzz Mr. Spice, glancing back to the little fellow only to freeze.  It was huge, the size of a mama raccoon, but it's nose was pointier. . . and then it saw me sitting there looking at it, and I swear to God it got this "Oh Sh*t!" look on it's pointed little unmasked face, and turned to scuttle off the logs and across the deck, it's long rat like tail trailing behind.  It was a POSSSUM.  Holy GAWD!!  What next?  Unfortunately, by the time Dave came to the door (He now just rushes to the door to see which creature I am calling about, I never buzz for any other reason) the little fella was gone around the corner.  Well, big fella.  The funny thing is, the sighting kind of shook me up.  It was the surprise factor, I think.  I am used to raccoons, but this was new.  When I mentioned as much to Mr. Spice, he laughed and said,  "Why? The only thing he'd do is play dead."  And for some reason that reminded me of the cartoon Over the Hedge.  I liked that movie!!  LOL.

Anyway, that's it from me.  While I write interesting stories, I live a very quiet life.

OH!  Accept, once I get this story done I shall be flying off to points south.  At least I hope the story will be done by then.  Anyway, my publisher is sending me down to Alabama at the beginning of the month for a signing at some sort of conference. Haven't got all the details, and then at the end of the month they are flying me somewhere else, Chicago I think, but I'm not sure yet.  I will be flown down, picked up and taken to a warehouse where I shall be chained to a table for two or three days while I sign 3000 to 5000 books.  They are hoping I can do 5000, but the minimum they expect is 3000, and then I will be carted back to the airplane and flown home for my poor fingers and hand to recover.  It is some kind of promotional thing the distributor is doing. Presumably, they will occasionally unchain me to feed me, or bring me food at the table, though if they do it that way, I'll probably end up with it all over the books.  I am definitely a clumsy gal.  Dave just shakes his head--and tries not to laugh toooooo awfully hard--as I trip, spill and stumble my way through life.  Can't help it, I'm always off in my alternate universe plotting in my head and paying minimum attention to the world around me.

That's it from me.  Hi guys and I'll try not to leave it so long before the next one.  Actually I should be getting the cover for The Immortal Hunter soon and Dave always makes me post it (actually, he puts it up and says, "Get in there and say something" LOL) so will probably do another update then.

Lynsay

I haven’t posted for a while. I have considered doing so a couple of times but there never seems to be anything to post about. My life is incredibly boring. At least that’s what I kept thinking and then this morning Mr. Spice came into my office and said he wanted to post the new book covers which arrived in the mail today and would I write a quick blog to go with them. I grumbled that yes, I’d try to think of something to write, then sat back and I did try to come up with something. After several minutes I thought with exasperation that there was really nothing to write about and I’m pretty boring.

Finally, in exasperation I started going through the last couple or three months trying to sort out what had been going on. Well, there was my trip to the tropics but I’d posted about that. Then there were the three books that came out; The Accidental Vampire, Vampires Are Forever and Vampire Interrupted. All of which placed high on the New York Times lists as well as lists like USA Today, Publisher’s Weekly, Borders, etc. AND they stayed on those lists for weeks so that I’ve pretty much been on the lists every week for three months now.

So . . . there was Christmas, a trip to the tropics with my booty-shaking runner-upness (see previous blog), Easter, and my books entering the New York Times list at 10, 6, and 3 . . . Nothing much happening, right? LOL.

.. But really, that hardly makes for an interesting tale and my working on corrections for The Rogue Hunter, which, incidentally, is the title of the next book in the Argeneau series and is published on September 30th. . .  or corrections for the next historical which I don’t yet have a cover for . . . or my working on writing the next immortal and historical at the same time . . . Well, that’s hardly entertaining to you guys and that’s about all I’ve been doing, that and cuddling up with Mr. Spice for a couple hours a week to watch American Idol. (Yes, I know. We’re sad creatures, but hey, music, cuddling with Mr. Spice . . . and then I go back to writing )

So, I guess I’ll stop boring you guys and get back to it. (Mr. Spice has come in the office at least three times since he asked me to do this. I think he’s anxious to get the information posted.)  But first I want to thank you guys for all the support and encouragement and lovely letters you’ve been sending, and thank you VERY much for getting the Argeneaus so high on those lists. I never imagined this when I started writing.

Thank you.

Lynsay

p.s. My publisher has asked that I don’t show the cover illustration until they’ve done some additional work and got the promotion stuff underway - hence the reason that the picture has now disappeared.

L.

Anyway, the next day, Wednesday, was a spa day. The three of us went in for pedicures, manicures, facials, massage, the whole works. I swear, by the time the girl was done with me every muscle in my body was a soggy noodle. Since I'm usually as wound up as a clock and simply find it impossible to relax, this was no small thing. Thursday was mega day. We ended up booked on two excursions, sort of by accidents. We had a bit of trepidation about this beforehand. One was an all day cruise/drive. It started with a cruise around the island on a catamaran to a small village where we all got off and piled into several very nice passenger vans which then drove us to a town called Souffre (Gad I hope I spelled that right) There the air was heavy with the unpleasant scent of sulphur and the locals rushed out with their wares, necklaces made of lave rock and so on. From there we continued up into the hills to a collapsed volcano that we could walk right into. Not telling more about that cause you know it's gonna be in a future book.

Then we went to a cocoa plantation and saw how cocoa is dried and so on to make 100 % pure chocolate for Hershey's. You know I bought a stick. Yes a stick. It's a little bigger around than a broom stick, but only about six inches long. It's solid and heavy and smells SOOOO yummy. I was also given some spices with it and a recipe to make hot chocolate that calls for grating some off the stick, adding the herbs and spices, boiling and so on. I haven't tried it yet, but will. After that we had a meal at the plantation, followed by a chocolate desert that was lovely. Then we all piled into the passenger vans and were returned down the mountain to the catamaran. We sailed back, pausing for a swim in a cove along the way, sailing back into the cove by our resort at 4:30. This left us exactly half an hour to get off, walk back to the resort, go to the bathroom and then rush back for the 5:00 sunset cruise. I should mention here . . . Yes, it was a long excursion, an all day deal.

But that wasn't the big worry. You see, rum punch is a big drink on St. Lucia, especially at the resort. It was everywhere and usually free, and it was the drink of choice and on offer on the catamaran. There were other offerings like Bounty rum and bananas (don't ask. I never quite worked out the banana thing). Anyway, the point is, it's hot on the boat. You are mostly exposed and under the bright sun, and Jackie had warned us that she'd seen the cruise before and that it always rode out with a quiet, conservative type group and then came back into harbor at night with a singing, laughing, cheering and carousing crowd. Which would be fine, except that the same thing tended to happen with the sunset cruise too, and she was concerned about our being on one and the other and . . . well, you get the idea. I told her not to worry, yes it would be a long day out in the sun and sea air, and yes the rum punch would flow, but we would pace ourselves. It would be fine. We could do it. I am very proud to say that we did. WE WERE AWESOME. While everyone else started on the rum punches as soon as we boarded at EIGHT in the MORNING, we stuck to bottled water. I then switched to diet coke, not going near the rum punch until the cruise ride back in mid-afternoon. I'm pretty sure Jackie and Terri were too, though I didn't police their drinks. We were a little wind swept, a little salty from our swim and happily tired when the first cruise came to an end, but otherwise fine. We were a little late getting in and only had about 15 or 20 minutes before the next cruise so hopped off and went to use the washrooms at the resort while the catamaran was taken out, cleaned and restocked for the sunset cruise.

Unfortunately, because we were running from one cruise to the other without time between to change, we were a little underdressed compared to the others. We were in swimsuits and cover ups, with sunhats rosy red cheeks and probably redder noses from the sun while the rest were in evening, island casual; pretty much a dress shorts and polo shirts kind of thing. We just shrugged. What can you do, right? The sunset cruise was a gift and we couldn't just give it a miss was our thought and afterward I was terribly glad our mother taught us good manners and to be polite. I would have been sorry had we missed that cruise. There were a ton of yummy hors d'oeuvres and, of course, the customary rum punch. We - A little low on energy after our all day excursion - indulged in both and started to chat and interact with our cohorts on this latest cruise. We were the only ones on it from the first cruise (No one else would have dared two in a day I think, lol.) We were having fun, enjoying the tour of the bays and the setting sun and yipping with everyone when they headed back out to sea and then called all the women up to the center of the catamaran to line up in rows with one of the crew members, a young woman, before us.

While the boat gently pitched on the swells, we were expected to keep our feet while at the same time emulating a dance she showed us. It was a shake your booty contest and it was all about the hips, moving those while keeping your upper body still, sort of like you do in belly dancing but with a lot more. . . umm . . . shaking of your groove thing. Well, while Terri's voice rang in my ears with "We're Canadian, we don't do that" (ROFLMAO) I copied our instructor's stance, spread my legs, bent my knees a bit and proceeded to do my best to emulate what she was teaching, lol. As a dear friend of mine put it, I SHOOK WHAT MY MAMA GAVE ME! And DAMNNNNNNNN, when the music stopped, one of the male crew members went along, pausing behind each of us for a clap vote and do you know WHAT? DAMNNNNNN!!! I made it to the finals. It meant I had to do it again and stuff, but DAMNNNNNNNNN! I was one of the last three contestants and a runner up before losing out to a cute little 18 year old. The men had to line up and do it next and then we arrived back at the resort, the second cruise now over. The minute we landed we headed back to the villa to change before our dinner reservations.

The first thing I did when I got in was to call Mr. Spice to tell him that he had a booty shaking, hottie of a wife who could get her groove thing on well enough to be a runner up in a contest. He—being a man—had no concept of what this meant. He did not understand the earth shaking import behind this news. His response was a droll "I'm more impressed that my wife made 3 on the NY Times." Clearly, the man has his priorities ALL MESSED UP. Sigh. Anyway, the rest of the trip was lovely, but I was glad to come home to Mr. Spice. He may not understand the importance of a booty shaking wife, but he's still a sweetie. Hope you're all well. Lynsay, the booty shaking NY Timer.

I started to write this blog last night while cooking.  Yes, cooking, shocking as it is to everyone in this household, I finally took a turn.  Usually Dave and Terri man the kitchens here at Spice acres while I write, but I got the story done and sent out Monday and, not having any corrections at the moment, have been running around trying to get ready for the trip to St. Lucia.  However, I also ran out and grabbed the fixings to make a homemade Lasagna.    It turned out lovely, by the way (Thank God!!!  It's been so long since I cooked I feared I might set the house on fire or accidentally poison everyone, but no.  YAY!!)  Only now they're thinking I should help out with the cooking more often. 

Hmmm.  That wasn't very clever of me, was it?  LOL.

Actually, it turned out okay, but I suspect the compliments came more from love of me than love of my cooking, if you know what I mean.  Family are lovely that way.  Well, except me.  I can't lie worth a poop.  If something tastes horrible or looks horrible, or reads horrible and someone is cruel--or foolish--enough to ask my opinion, I will get this wide-eyed, deer in the headlights, "OH GOD!" look on my face and say, "It's nice," in this high, panicked type voice.  Don't know why.  I think it's because when we were kids we were told, "Everyone makes mistakes and we won't be angry at you or punish you for that, but lying about it is bad and we will be very angry and punish you twice over for that."

Much to my parent's dismay, I took this too heart.   I think I made my poor mother crazy.  I would skip class to hang out in the bathroom smoking and writing (Yeah, I was a geek delinquent.  Other's skipped out to go OFF school property and party, I skipped out and headed for the girl's washroom because I just had to write this one scene . . .   I was and still am a very sad case (grin)  

Anyway, I would skip out and then later when I went home and Mom would ask how my day was, my answer was , "Okay, I skipped Consumer studies and English." (The English class I skipped was the only BAD English teacher I ever had.  I shall explain later.)  Mom would get this expression, it was priceless, It was part "I can't believe you're telling me this" and part, "Oh crap, because you ARE telling me this I CAN'T give you real hell."  I really don't think my mother knew quite what to do with me.  Actually, now that I think of it, she often had this somewhat befuddled look on her face that was very similar to one Dave often gets around me.  Hmm.  Terri sometimes has it too, but after all this time, more often than not just shakes her head and walks away. 

Anyway, that's my explanation for why I don't seem to be able to lie.  I never bothered as a kid, got no practice and simply can't be bothered to learn how now.  Although, I do think it would be nice to be better at it when it would save feelings, like when a new recipe tastes like dog food but you know the person worked hard and don't want to hurt their feelings even though they do have taste buds in their mouths and probably know it's dog food too.  Then it would be good to be a better liar.

So . . . Back to the bad English teacher.  First I shall say that I had some WONDERFUL English teachers.  Especially Mr. Brady.  There is a man I would love to find and thank.  He really nurtured and encouraged my writing.  Unfortunately, the school where he worked is no longer a middle school but a grade school and I couldn't find him through the searches I've tried.  But I digress, back to the crackpot English teacher.  That sounds rude, but truly, she was a bit of a flake.  The woman kept taking me aside and telling me she thought I should drop out of high school.  I thought she thought I was a moron or something and couldn't pass her class and found it terribly demoralizing.  Then, one day, maybe 3/4s of the way through the year, my History teacher came to me with an essay I did on Napoleon for his class.  He told me he'd been sure I'd plagiarized my essay.  He said, he was so sure I'd just lifted it out of a history book that he'd checked the reference books in the school library and--not finding anything like it-- finally took it to my English teacher to ask if this really could be my writing.  I believe I flinched when he said this.  I mean, this is the same woman who kept telling me to drop out of school.  I figured she'd trash me.  But, he then added, "She said, 'Nope, that's her work.  Actually, it's sloppy for her.  She can do better." 

Well, you could have blown me over with a feather.  She's saying things like that to him, and then telling me I should drop high school?  What the heck? (Heck is not the word I was using at the time.)  I was something like 16 or maybe 17.  Teenage angst was riding my back and those horrid hormones were messing with the brain . . . so, I stormed off on a witch hunt. I found her at her desk in her empty classroom.  I flung the A++ paper on her desk with all the dramatic flourish only a teenager can pull off and said, "What?" 

She raised her eyebrows in her usual supercilious manner, but said nothing.  Well, that was it.  I was all righteous anger and, "What's this crap about I can do better and I'm an excellent writer and meanwhile you're telling ME I should drop out of highschool?! What the hell is that all about?" 

"It's about your future," said she, perfectly calm. "I do think you should drop out of school.  You will be a fine writer someday, but you need to suffer for your art. I think you should drop out of school and experience what's it's like to truly live."

I think my jaw actually fell off my face.  I mean, COME ON!!  What kind of crack pot crap was that to spout to a teenager?  Suffer for my art?  What?  Did she mean live in the gutter? Become a drug addict? Try prostitution maybe?  I stared at her, thinking she was completely screwed up, and then I'm afraid I told her so.  She'd caused me no end of misery with her constant prodding at me to drop out, I'd taken it horribly, feeling more stupid and useless each time she returned a story unmarked and said I should drop out, so I blasted her one.  Don't regret it to this day.

So that was the one bad English teacher I had. Considering we moved a lot when I was a kid, and then you have a different English teacher each year, I'd guess I had more than 12 English teachers before university.  So one bad one is pretty good.  Not even ten percent, right?

Well, I'm off to do last minute shopping before the trip to St. Lucia.  Be sure to stop in and say hey to Mr. Spice who will  be here all by himself with Miss Emma, the cat.  I'm sure he'll enjoy the peace and quiet for a day or two, but . . . well, come on, the place will be a tomb without Terri and I here to annoy him.  LOL.  Hey to all!

Lynsay

Four days until Christmas and five days until the release of The Accidental Vampire. I don't know which of the two I'm most excited about. It seems so long since I finished writing Victor's story that I've almost forgotten what it's about. Since then I've written three more Argeneau's and two historical novels so I'm not surprised I've forgotten most of the details.

Christmas in the Sands' house this year is going to be a much more quiet affair than last year - that one was hectic and we had 21 family members round for Christmas dinner. My sister Terri was on hand to help out, along with my husband, but even with three pairs of hands doing the work it wasn't an easy task.  This year we're having a scaled down version with fewer people and so hopefully we'll all have more time to enjoy it. Not that I won't still be worrying about things going wrong, of course I will but it just seems so much less fraught with fewer people coming.

Anyway I'd like to wish everyone a safe, happy and stress free holiday and I hope you get a chance to relax over the next few days.

Lynsay

Yes folks, the Lynsay Sands roadshow is on the move. Today marks the beginning of the world tour 2007, starting today in Las Vegas and ending on Friday in Las Vegas.

Actually it's a promotional visit to plug the latest Avon anthology, Holidays Are Hell, I'll be there with Vicki Pettersson and I'll be doing a short reading and a book signing session at the County Clark Library on Thursday at 7.00 p.m.

If anyone wants to visit I'll be happy to see you.

Lynsay

It's done! Argeneau series book ten is written, complete, all the words needed and then some A few too many for good measure, but I'll trim that down on the final edit before it gets mailed to the publisher.

My husband is currently proof reading it to check for spelling, continuity and all those other kind of things I can't spot when I'm still so involved with the story and too close to the actual words on the paper. Meanwhile I'm doing the line edits requested by my editor for the historical novel which was completed earlier in the year.

If anyone ever tells you being a writer is a glamorous occupation, don't believe a word. It's a life spent in front of a computer, sifting through four hundred or so printed pages, or reading through a manuscript  trying to decipher a busy editor's illegible writing.

Still, I do enjoy it and there some rewards. Such as; how many people do you know who can go to work without changing out of their pyjamas?

Just a quick update to say a big thank-you to everyone who has joined me on MySpace as friends or who has left a comment or a message.

I'm still working on the latest Argeneau novel (working title 'book 10' - sorry, I know I should show a bit more imagination) and I haven't had time to reply to messages or have a look round the spaces of my friends yet - but I promise to do so just as soon as this manuscript is in the mail and headed in the general direction of my publishers.

And the book? Well, it's been one of the stubborn ones, has 'number 10'. Reminds me of one of those kids who doesn't want to get out of bed for school on a cold winter morning and so you have to cajole, prise, bribe and finally issue dire warnings of punishment to before they'll finally squeeze themselves out of the warmth of a nocturnal nest.

Well, Argeneau book 10 has finally been roused out of bed, but I don't think it's washed it's hands and face and got fully dressed yet. But it will... soon... very soon.

Lynsay - who has inky fingers from all this writing.