I am amazed...

I am amazed by how much interest people show when they learn that I’m a writer. I don’t trumpet the information about, but at times, it does come up in conversation. People are invariably curious and impressed.

It generates the kinds of questions you would expect, i.e. where do you find your ideas (everywhere); how long does it take to write a book (it depends, but on average six to eight months); if I give you an idea, will you write the book for me? (Um…nope ;-) )

There are other questions, though, that do surprise me, such as, do you consider yourself an entrepreneur? Well, considering that it takes as much work to sell your novels and yourself to agents and editors as it takes to write them, yes, I do. As well, considering how much knowledge of sales and promotion authors need to have these days to succeed, yes, I do.

I write because I love to create stories with wonderfully happy endings, and I feel such gratification that there are those in the world who will buy my stories. I think this might be everyone’s dream: to make money doing what one loves to do.

I’m not always sure what the reception will be when I mention that I write romance novels because of the long history of romance novels not being taken seriously. What a shame. They offer a glorious escape from our daily stresses.

To my surprise, most often I find that I’m treated with respect. There are so, so many people out there who want to write a novel, but never do. They are impressed that I not only finished at least one, but that I persevered and sold.

The question asked most often about writing romance is: is there a formula? My answer? There are expectations, the biggest of which is that happy ending.

To writers reading this, what is the most common question you are asked about your writing? What is the most unusual you’ve ever been asked?

To readers, what have you always wanted to ask a published author?

The Summer of Glorious Eating

I think of summer, 2009, as the Summer of Glorious Eating.

Every social event I attended featured wonderful food. I remember the meals more than the conversations! Even small, unexpected treats were ambrosial. I remember a lazy latte sitting at a wrought-iron table on the Main street sidewalk of a small town late on a Sunday afternoon after the tourist shops had closed for the day and the only coffee available was from a tavern, but brewed to perfection. Man, it was good.

Two of the events—a 50th birthday party and a simple but gorgeous wedding—served the yummiest catered food I’ve ever eaten. I tried bison for the first time in the form of mini tournedos and found it lean, tender, and tasty. It didn’t hurt that it was wrapped in one of my faves—bacon. I tried chorizo ‘lollipops’ on wooden skewers, rounds of sausage dipped in honey. Sounds weird. Tasted great.

At the birthday party, I enjoyed the latest trendy version of golden French fries served in paper cones and topped with garlic aioli. Okay, I admit it, I’m addicted to potatoes. They make a great vehicle for flavorful toppings and fillings. At the wedding, I ate more than my fair share of tiny new potatoes stuffed with spicy shredded beef.

I had to (simply had to!) eat quite a few spring rolls before I figured out what it was in the rice wrappers besides the vegetables that tasted so refreshing. Slivers of pears.

Both of the catered events were outdoors, the birthday party in an enchantment of a garden filled with stone animals and small pieces of artwork tucked in among flowers and shrubs and rocks. Halfway up the hill toward the back of the garden, the children ate their food ensconced in large Adirondack chairs in an open-sided wooden structure with a peaked roof and backed by a stone fireplace. The kids called it ‘The Cottage.’

The wedding abutted woods full of tall pines and mature maples. Instead of a wedding cake, the bride—a cupcake fanatic—opted for tons of colorful pretty cupcakes, including decadent devil’s food, all of them decorated with edible flower petals.

Noshing al fresco on cool summer evenings under bright clear star-studded skies makes everything taste better.

I am SUCH a sucker for good food. Sigh. It was a good summer;-)

The sound of a voice

Germs of ideas for romance novels can start in the oddest places. Sometimes, all it takes is the sound of a man’s voice.

Last year, I attended school as well as writing romance. One day, I sat in a bookkeeping class in which all of the students worked independently and quietly. In the hallway outside of my classroom, a bunch of students got excited because one of their teachers, who’d been off on sick leave for surgery, returned to school and joined them in the hall. I couldn’t see them from where I sat and didn’t pay much attention until I heard the teacher speak.

Wow.

I fell in love with his voice and his gorgeous Aussie accent. There’s something about Aussie men and the way they talk. For the next ten minutes, he delivered a truly hilarious monologue about hospital food and I thought, who is this guy? I want to be in his class.

I didn’t get much bookkeeping done that day because I did little more than listen to what was going on in the hallway.

When I stepped out of class, I got my first glimpse of him and he looked...nice, mild-mannered, unassuming. Bland. Not at all this hunky Aussie wildman I’d pictured. Had I met him in the hallway before I heard him speak, I might have smiled politely and walked on, but after hearing that voice, that sense of humor? I was hooked.

Too bad he was wa-a-ay younger than me, but I know I’ll use him in a future novel. The heroine will fall for the hero before she ever sees him–just by the sound of his voice.

I’m fascinated by the ways in which people fall in love. Sometimes, it’s the sound of a voice…sometimes, the touch of a hand…sometimes a unique scent floating on the wind. You spin quickly to see who it is, and what it is about this person that makes you feel he is already a part of yourself, that you have known him all of your life.

In my first Harlequin Superromance, NO ORDINARY COWBOY, June 2009, my hero Hank, had a rough, sexy voice. He sounded like he drank battery acid for breakfast, but the first time the heroine heard him, shivers ran down her spine.

I loved creating Hank. He isn’t the best-looking man around, but he has a great head of hair, awesome biceps, an amazing voice and a heart as big as his Montana ranch. He’s also a truly decent guy who is courageous enough to bring poor inner-city children who are recovering from cancer to his ranch for a little fun and TLC. They deserve it after all they’ve lived through.

I’ll let you read the book to discover why this took so much courage on his part. I’ll also leave it to you to discover his flaws. Like how stubborn he is…

Hank teaches my heroine, Amy, how to live a courageous life.

As hard as Amy fights her attraction to Hank, at the end of the story she realizes that she had never, ever stood a chance. Within the first few seconds of meeting him, of seeing adoring children climbing all over him, when he opened his mouth and said, in his rough dry sexy voice, “I’m Hank Shelter,” she fell in love.