My Business Socks

I’ve spent the past week writing a love scene for Thief of Hearts.  It’s wild.  It’s love.  And in true to life, non-romance novel fashion it lasts all afternoon and into the evening.  What?  You don’t have that kind of free time in your life?  Who works?  Who has kids?  Who has responsibilities?  Pshaw!  Everyone has real life wild love scenes that last all day and night.  Right?  And I think they go something like this…

This video is courtesy of Mr. Alpha Male who stumbled across it on youtube.  I’ll spare you the story of how after sharing this video with me he then called me on a Wednesday while I was at the store to ask me to buy him some business socks.  Needless to say, the sales person in the store thought I had lost my mind when I asked for them while Mr. Alpha Male laughed on the phone. 

So, now I’m thinking what if I wrote a real life love scene?  How many romance novels would I sell if my hero wore his business socks?  What do you think?  In all seriousness, can brushing your teeth be considered foreplay?  *winks and grins* Back to writing…

Writers in the Woods

Ask any writer and they'll probably tell you that the best writer moments (other than getting "the call" or writing that particularly spectacular scene/chapter/book or meeting fans if you're lucky enough to have 'em) is getting together with other writers.  We tend to thrive off one another.  It's like the creativity and voices in our heads start to bounce off each other and pretty soon there's randomness ricocheting off every surface.  You can get lucky and catch a great idea or a fix for some issue your having in your story.  At the very least you'll laugh yourself silly at 80% of what you hear. 

That's exactly how I spent most of last week at some lush digs in the mountains.  I came home exhausted and exhilerated and feeling like a little bit of that was home.  We know most people will think we're nuts if we talk about what we're really thinking, so we usually tone it down a few notches.  Not so with our nutter writer friends.  Feel free to let your freak flag fly!  You're among friends!

What about you?  Do you have a particular group that gets you or at least some dimension of your personality?  Maybe you went to some genre convention and for the first time in your life wanted to scream, "MY PEOPLE!"  Whoever you are, I hope you do find your people. I guarantee shenanigans.

Fog: It's a Metaphor

Mr. Alpha Male told me recently that he was lost in a fog.  Haven’t we all been there at some point?  Where to go in life?  What to do next?  I usually pride myself on offering excellent advice at such times but for some reason on this occasion, all I could think of was this…

     He strained his eyes, forcing himself to see anything beyond the white mass that had gathered at the prow of the boat over the past hour.  The fog swirled around his head, cool and wet.  It cloaked the dark waters that lapped at the sides of the vessel and filled the ship with a disorienting haze.  His knuckles grew white as he grasped the wheel of the three mast ship, willing it to keep to a safe route.

     “Ain’t gonna be seein’ much in this stew, are ye?” The fist mate offered as he joined him on the deck.

     “No,” the words ground out from between clenched teeth.  Why couldn’t his blasted first mate leave him alone to steer in solitude?  The last thing he needed just now was the old man’s endless prattle about the sea.  This was the one place that his life usually made sense and his thoughts were easily parted as he guided the ship to slice cleanly through the waters.  Not today.  Today, all of the instincts built from years of guiding ships through the Atlantic felt wrong. 

     “I need a blasted heading.” He snapped open his compass gazing at the arrow as it swooped and danced around the small printed N.  It changed nothing, of course.  Without sight, he could steer into a rock outcropping this close to shore.   He may also veer too far off the trail of the Lady Destiny they had been chasing for weeks across the sea. 

     “Nothing to do but wait for this mess to blow out.”  The man stepped up to the railing reaching out his hand into the fog, watching as it stirred around his long twisted fingers. 

     “Every moment we sit still, no progress is being made.  Every moment we sit still, that ship gets further and further from our grasp.” He shoved away from the wheel, his eyes searching the endless white oblivion.  The fortune aboard that ship was close enough to feel its presence, yet it had eluded his grasp again and again. 

     “Let ‘er go for now, Captain.”

     “Let her go.  Let her go?  After all we have been through to get to this place? This…” He slammed his fist down on the wood rail.  “Mist covered hell!  Think of the crew.  We cannot let her go!”

     “Ain’t my choice to let ‘er go.  Tis the sea.  The sea, she is a troublesome mistress.”

Have you ever been lost in a fog?  Do you wait it out or blaze a trail through it and hope for survival?  And why in my own daydreams did I make myself an old ugly first mate with poor English? Fogs pass and clear waters are ahead, just not today.  Hold fast.  Stay strong. Reef the sheets and swab the decks, but don’t loose faith.