Okay, just so you know.  I'm serious when I said I'm writing up a storm.  I wrote that darned mermaid story, then wrote another to go in the same anthology.  That's two!  Ha!  I also finished that reality dating story.  I gave it to my beta readers Monday.  Yeah, who's on fire?  Me!  I've even begun overhauling my ogre historical.  Watch me cook.  I may not be blogging, but I'm writing all the same.

Now I'm going to bed.  Goodnight.

When was the last time I blogged?   Geez, I can't remember.  Yeah, I suck.  Sorry.  If you want to see something regular from me, go to my website and read my short stories.  Get a glimse of what goes on inside my head.  I promise not to show too much of the dark stuff.

RWA national conference in Washington, D.C. was amazing.  I met with the coolest agent ever from 3 Seas Literary Agency.  Man, I hope they pick me up.  I've been a free agent for nearly 3 years now, and I really need representation.  I'm writing like there's no tomorrow, and I need somebody to help me manage it all.  Good Lord.

I'll be signing A Journey of the Heart in Jacksonville, NC on August 20th from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. at the mall on Western Blvd.  Come see me and get your signed copy.  Otherwise, I'm likely to simply sit there and make a fool of myself by drooling at all the marines.  Okay, well let's be honest shall we?  I'm going to drool whether you come or not.  Poor marines.  Nobody likes to be gawked at.

I sent the final story in my spy anthology to my editor this evening.  That makes three, and I'm done...for now.  Then the edits will come, and the blurbs, and the excerpts, and the cover concept, and the...well...you get the picture.  I'm not even going to get into promoting the damned thing.  Good thing I love writing so much.  I'm particularly proud of these spy stories.  I really think they're going to be a fun read.

Now it's back to the historicals.  I've got three more to write before I can bounce back to contemporary.  Maybe I can get to Axal and Vivette (still not sure about this name for my heroine) in 2011.  [sigh]

I'm winding down toward the end of the third spy story in my spy anthology.  It's been such in incredible joy getting to know these characters and spend time in classic European cities that it's bittersweet to end each of these stories.  The first short story, Undercover Lover, has a satisfying ending though I had to rush to meet deadline for a Valentine's Day release.  The second short story came just as quickly (wrote the thing in 2 weeks), but the ending is so powerful and emotional it drained and energized me at the same time.  I was sorry to see that one end.  I wasn't done spending time with that amazing couple.  The reluctance I had in finishing that second story is ten times worse with the third.  This third story went beyond a short story and became a novella.  These two characters are so complex and dynamic.  The questions they have about each other go unanswered until chapter eighteen - past the climax when they face off at gunpoint (which I haven't written yet but hope to this weekend).  Number three will be finished in about 30 or 40 pages, and I wound up spending this past week finding excuses not to write it because I don't want to say goodbye.  Yes, there are the beta reader and critique phases then the self editing, and finally the polish to put on the manuscript; but it's not the same as writing that first draft.  Getting to know these characters and watching in awe as their adventures and lovestory unfold at the tips of my fingers.  I'm excited to see them get their happily ever after, but I can't deny the sadness I'm already experiencing to see The End coming so quickly.  Plus, when I finish this one, that means I have to write than darned mermaid story that's due out in September.  The upside is, once the mermaid story's done, I finally get to return to the half-written reality dating show romance.  My beta readers have been begging for that one!

As president of Chesapeake Romance Writers, our local chapter of Romance Writers of America, I strongly urge our members to mentor or seek a mentor.  Mentoring not only benefits the protege, it benefits the mentor.  When I joined Chesapeake Romance Writers five years ago, I was a good writer from a technical standpoint, but not a good writer in terms of storytelling.  I knew nothing about the business.  Quite frankly, I was too ignorant to know just how ignorant I was.  Judi McCoy, Denise Jeffries, and Felicia Mason were beyond generous in helping me learn what I needed to know to make a success in my own writing career.  No question was off limits or considered stupid.  They were always just an email or phone call away, and their presence at chapter meetings let me know I wasn't alone on my journey toward getting published.  Now that I'm enjoying my successes and serving the chapter as president, I have taken on three novice authors in hopes I will be half as helpful as my mentors.  There's a sense of pride in stepping up as an equal to those who once mentored me.  There's an even more profound joy and pride that comes in seeing my proteges make success in some small part to the information and guidance I've provided.  I am now the one who's just an email or phone call away, and nothing pleases me more than having the opportunity to celebrate their moments with them - the first rejection letter, the first positive feedback from an editor, and joy of all joys, the first contract.  One day, I will have the very great privilege of purchasing a book one of my proteges has written, asking her to sign it, then welcoming her to the ranks of the published with a big hug.  I can't wait.

Made a boo-boo today.  A funny one that made me laugh so hard my mascara ran.  I work in a law firm, a prestigious one in our specialty, and professionalism is the name of the game.  But today was Friday, and payday, and sunny, and warm.  I couldn't control myself.  When dropping off documents for one of our more gentlemanly attorneys to sign, I accidentally called him "baby."  I didn't do it on purpose.  It just sort of came flying out of my mouth as a tack-on to the end of a sentence.  I was exuberant, and apparently unable to contain it.  Damn it.  For those of you intimately familiar with me and my work, it was Bill.  Okay, now I know you're rolling on the floor - those of you who know Bill.  And you should have seen his reaction!  To give him complete credit, he didn't show one whit of change in his expression.  When he spoke, however, he couldn't quite put two thoughts together in a sentence.  I nearly burst!  I had to run out of there before I giggled and embarrassed him further, poor guy.  Back at my desk, I lost it.  And from time to time for the rest of the afternoon, every time I thought about it, I had to giggle some more.  That's me, folks.  Looking for the funny in everything.

It occurred to me this evening that the reason we enjoy hearing from fans who tell us how they like our work is because it's like they get us while so many people don't.  We pour a piece of our soul into everything we create, and the benefit is that the finished product feeds back into our soul and makes us stronger and brighter.  If we've done it right, we shine through the thing we've made - our personality, our beliefs, our world view.  When a fan says they like it, it's the same as saying they like us.  They get it.  They get us.  And they like it.  How's that for a little taste of wonderful?

Anyone in a creative career (acting, writing, music, etc.) knows that we never stop improving.  We contantly evolve, learn, grow.  With our maturity comes a change in how we create.  It's a wonderful thing because everything we do is better than the last - regardless of our fears that we can't beat our previous "great" project.  There's a drawback, however.  When we look back on our earlier works, we can't help but cringe.  "Oh, how could I have let something so unrefined make it into the public realm?"  I do it.  I haven't met a creative person who hasn't.  But let's put this into perspective, shall we?  At the time we created that movie/book/song, it was the very best we had.  Yes we're different now, but in ten years, what we're doing now will seem weak in comparison to what we're doing then.  We can't let that stop us from producing the best in us.  When we stop creating, we stop growing.  We stop improving.  Don't stop.  Be proud of what you're doing now and don't look back.

Good Lord, has it been since October since I blogged?  Where the hell have I been?  Writing, that's where.    I wrote a short story, Undercover Lover, in January while at Snowshoe ski resort, and it released on Valentines Day.  It's been hugely popular, and my fans are asking for more.  So I pitched the idea of a spy anthology to my publisher, and they bought it!  Woo-hoo!  Undercover Lover will be the first story in the anthology, and I've been writing the second like there's no tomorrow.  I started on April 6th, and I'm nine chapters in.  That's what, a chapter a day - plus?  I'm on fire.  I love it when the writing comes so easily.  I discovered that music makes my fingers fly over the keyboard.  Have you listened to Rob Pattinson's music?  Wow.  It really drops me into the mood of my scenes, and I can't seem to make my fingers work fast enough to keep up with the incoming words.  That's true inspiration, people.

Is it me, or have we all descended into password hell?  Everywhere I go I have to enter a password.  And it's not like the old days (five years ago) when a simple four digit number would do the trick for every password need.  No.  Now we have to have a capital letter and a lower case letter and a number and a symbol.  Wait, that's not enough.  It's got to be no less than eight characters.  To make matters worse, we have to change this little brain twister every freakin' 30 days!  And you can't use the same password for everything, because different sites and institutions want things their way, so we have to have a different password everywhere we go.  I counted my passwords today.  Between work and home, I have twenty-seven passwords.  They're all different, and on any given day I use about eighteen of them.  Talk to the average eighty-year-old who doesn't own a computer, and you'll probably hear something like, "Twenty-seven passwords?  Are you out of your mind?  Heck, I can't remember my social security number.  I sure hope nobody asks me to remember a password."  A password?  A password?  Try twenty-seven!  Aaaaaaa!