The fantasy is not always better than the reality.

All heroes have their faults. It’s true. They’re only human. In our mind- the heroine- our hero is perfectly maddening and alluring and really good at driving us crazy. There is something about this hero that attracts us like moths to a flame. When he looks at you, you feel like you’re the only thing he sees in his world. And our hero could tackle the world and save us with one hand tied behind his back. It is that hero mentality that makes us fall in love and do the strangest of things to keep that feeling deep inside us. Having the hero by your side while you fight for your lives is the fantasy; the reality is the hero staying with you for all of time, until you take your last breath.

Twilight the movie is releasing on Friday and I’m reminded of how I felt the first time I read the book- anxious, excited, and completely in love with the thought of first love and lust at first sight. There is a certain lust for life you find while you’re reading the POV of a girl who has just fallen in love for the first time in her life. She’s awakened at the thought of this guy who nearly steals her breath away every time he walks into a room. She’s mesmerized by the sight of him. He’s all she can think about and really the only person she wants to think about. But yet, he wants nothing to do with her. He avoids her. He’s rude to her, obnoxiously rude and hateful and she is still drawn to him. His reaction to her only feeds her need to be near him.

I admit, I’m Team Edward. The very sight of him on page is enough to steal my breath away, to make my heart race in anticipation and a blush to flush across my cheeks. Even when I thought I wasn’t supposed to fall for him, I did- hard. He is the bad boy without being the bad boy. He is the villain hero. He’s dangerous only because of his capabilities to harm her, not because he chooses to or because he can. Edward sees Bella as his talisman, his salvation from darkness. She is his light.

Love between a hero and his heroine is often passionate, fiery, and all-consuming. I felt that way about the books, felt that way about the characters. My Mattycakes was very aggravated with my all-consuming need to read them as fast as I could. I couldn’t put them down long enough to take a breather. I couldn’t put them down long enough to have a semi-coherent conversation with him and it was all because of a fictional hero who fascinated me to the point of obsession.

I knew how Bella felt because I had been that girl, with my Edward, falling head first into a love affair that I knew I couldn’t be without. And unlike Bella, whose race for the HEA was shot with peril every day of their existence together, I knew when I glanced up from my book, glasses perched low on my nose from falling down, my hero would be staring back at me with a bemused look on his face shaking his head with wonder over my fascination with a book. Little does he know, in my world, I am Bella and he is my Edward and eternity we shall spend together.

Today’s song is Too Late by Ashes Divide, which is my official Twilight song.

Anyone else obsess about fictional heroes? Who is your all time favorite fictional hero (this can be book, movie, TV, comics, ect.)? And if you’re a writer, how do they compare with the traits you’ve put into your own hero?

*balmy Caribbean day, picturesque view of a large black pirate ship and a bunch of hammocks hanging between palm trees on the island nearby. A group of pirate women in various stages of dress are sprawled on chaise lounges, sipping Bahama Mamas and Mai Tais*

Marnee: *inserting a paper umbrella behind her ear* When is Eloisa supposed to arrive?

Hellion: I’m not sure. *settling in deeper into her chair as Lance waves a palm frond above her; slurps on her pina colada as Dirk steps forward to refresh her glass with more tropical drink* I sent Jack to get her an hour ago. I would have thought he arrived back by now.

Terri: *spewing frozen drink, aghast* You did what? You sent Jack to escort Eloisa James?

Hellion: *looking curious* Why, was that a bad idea?

*meanwhile, across the island, in a secluded cove, Captain Jack Sparrow is rowing a boat with illicit cargo. He ignores the covert kicks from the struggling package and tosses said package over his shoulder as he wades his way to shore. Soon he drops his loot in a chair in the private hut and whisks off the pillowcase*

Jack: *grinning far too good-naturedly for a wicked rogue* ‘ello, luv, I know I promised the gels they’d get a little chat with you, but I know how they get. They ask all these ridiculous questions about writing and craft and what book is coming next, and they never remember to ask anything worthwhile.

Eloisa: *shaking her hair back into place, looking thoroughly disgruntled* Was this really necessary?

Jack: I never do anything that’s not necessary. Now would you like a drink before we get started? I would. Kidnapping is such dehydrating work. *cutting the ties to her arms and gesturing to a table of beverages; Eloisa signals for one of the pink ones—after all, she should be recompensed in some way* Now, *dropping into a chair beside her*, enough with the social niceties….

Eloisa: *choking on her drink*

Jack: Is there any particular reason why you haven’t written a pirate themed novel? I know those settings work very well for romance: close quarters, high action, the Captain is probably the only one who bathes the most anyway…and everyone loves a pirate. *grins roguishly again*

Eloisa: But Jack! Everyone knows that pirates are all in bed with each other. My heroes are high on testosterone – but not on other men. Say, what kind of eyeliner are you using these days? I’ve been using Laura Mercier, but I’m always up for advice.

Jack: *pouts* I’m just going to ignore that uncouth thing you just said, Eloisa. What is it about the Georgian era you enjoy so much? Why not Victorian, why not Shakespearian? It’s the coats, isn’t it? *tugs at the sleeves of his coat and fiddles with the gold buttons* Ladies do love a man who cuts a dashing figure, I admit.

Eloisa: The Georgian is naughtier. The Shakespearean is dirtier (the lack of baths, toothbrushes and privies), and the Victorians are too weird sexually. For me. So what kind of eyeliner did you say you’re wearing?

Jack: Lancome, actually. Easy glide formula, no splinters, and waterproof. On that subject, I sometimes read your books in the bath when Hellion can’t scrub my back (don’t tell her, I dropped the one about her precious Mayne, by purely accident of course, into the water)—and I notice you have a long list of characters—and all so very different—how do you keep them all straight?

Eloisa: I start a “Bible” with every book. I list everything from the main characters (and their appearance—so important to keep the women in your life apart, Jack!) to the addresses, servants, gentlemen “about town,” stores, etc. And I update it with each book. Or rather, my trusty research assistant does.

Jack: Hellion goes on and on about something else you do very well. I better ask it; she’ll kill me if I don’t. *pats down chest, pulls out a scrap of paper* Ah, here it is. Sometimes it feels like authors are varying the same archetype, but your characters truly do feel and behave like individuals. Do you discover your characters as you write, or do they seem to come fully formed out of whatever research you’ve done prior to starting the book?

Eloisa: They come out of research, to some extent. But really just out of my imagination – put together with whatever I’m reading lately. So the hero of When the Duke Returns, Simeon, is loosely based on a real Georgian laird who traveled all through Ethiopia, searching for the source of the Blue Nile. But he also come from Kipling’s Kim, which I was rereading, and Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, which I read about three times while writing this novel (it’s fantastic!) and finally from my husband.

Jack: I’m going to surmise these were also not about pirates? Hmm. Fine. One of the other girls asks: Is there a book you haven’t written yet that you would like to write? What would it be? (Is there a pirate?) That last bit is me, of course.

Eloisa: Nope. If I want to write a book, I write it. That’s my biggest advice for unpubbed writers, by the way: if you want to write something, do it. Don’t just talk about it. Tell yourself you will write a rubbishing version of the wonderful book you had in your head. Five revisions later, it will likely be wonderful!

Jack: Hellion will be delighted with that answer. (Not that I think she write anything rubbishy. Codswollop, sure, but not rubbish.) Oh, here’s another girl question. Are they raiding my clothing when I’m not in them? How odd. How do you deal with the pressure from fans to write your books? Or do you feel pressure from the fans? *scoffs* Honestly, that Marnee. I’ve explained this time and again. *sniffs* My fans are positively rabid. I can hardly leave the island as it is. I imagine it’s the same for you, am I right?

Eloisa: My fans are really nice! And since I write 2 a year, I don’t see that they have anything to complain about, and luckily for me, they agree. That said, I will have two books out back-to-back next June and July, so my fans have a reason to love me! i.e., because I may die of hard work, but they’ll get Villiers novel!

Jack: Good God, don’t bring up Villiers. He’s even bigger than Mayne on this ship at times. (Okay, so maybe I dropped Mayne’s precious book into the tub on purpose.) *flips over paper* Another one! They must really like you. You publish at least one book a year, and lately, two times a year. How are you able to write two books a year and still do all the things you need to do to be a professor? There is a lot of research required of professors, too, yes? Publish or perish?

Eloisa: Well, actually you don’t perish if you’re tenured, which I am.

Jack: Ah, once a pirate, always a pirate, I say.

Eloisa: But that doesn’t mean that I don’t publish because honestly, Jack, I’m a professor first. So I just finished an article for an anthology on Renaissance London even though a book is due because that’s my first job, and writing is my second. Think of it being like you, Jack: wearing eye-liner and swishing around is your first job, and pirating is your second!

Jack: *narrow eyed moue* They did warn me you were witty. Well, would you ever consider giving up being a professor to write full time? Because I sure as hell wouldn’t give up my pirate ship…that is, once I get it back, of course.

Eloisa: Nope. We’re birds of a feather there, Jack.

Jack: So, what’s your next book about? When the Duke Returns. Any pirates in it? *pursing lips thoughtfully* I mean, I saw a play once about a pirate who found out he was a duke….

Eloisa: You’d like my hero. Simeon has fought off alligators, and wild tribes, and a mountain king. He’s a stud. He’d throw you over board in two seconds.

Jack: *blowing on his nails* Like to see him try that. So the Desperate Duchesses series. They have been very wildly popular. Jemma and Elijah have a huge following. Any teasers for the fans out there who can’t wait to read more about these two?

Eloisa: Stop thinking that Elijah and Jemma will obviously end up together! When have I ever given you everything you wanted? Or – let’s put it this way – when has life ever given any of us what we absolutely wanted?

Jack: *jaw agape* I think I know what you’re saying. And definitely true, because if life did, I’d still have my ship. *swigs rum* Why is the rum gone? Damn, I need to go get more; and I suppose you should be returned back to the ship. *tilts head, sloe-eyed look* Unless you’d like to be my captive a little bit longer. You know, for some inspiration for that pirate book you might write someday….

Eloisa: Nope. *jumping to her feet and bolting to the door*

Jack: Wait! Wait! Eloisa… *running after* Did you say Laura Pellier? Mercier? Mabelline? I’m willing to expand my horizons…. *turns back to audience* Well, that went well. However, we can all agree that Eloisa was an extremely good sport—and an excellent interviewee (can definitely hold her rum.) What questions have you for the fair Eloisa James and her non-pirate and uber-popular (NYT’s bestsellers!) novels? And can someone find me some more rum? I think those hoochie-papa cabana boys have been hiding it again….

Talk loud and talk often: 5 commenters will receive a copy of Desperate Duchesses!

Don’t forget to be here tomorrow when Eloisa James is kidnapped by Captain Jack Sparrow and teaches him not to mess with a Duchess. 

We promise, it’ll be worth your rum to stop by and see how Ms. James manhandles our beloved Captain Jack.  And we’ll have lots of books to give away so remember to leave a comment and you might find a shiny new book in your mailbox very soon!

So I promised to blog about some of the craft stuff I learned at out chapter conference.  The fabulous Debra Dixon was our guest speaker and if you don’t know who that is, google immediately.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait.

*cues Jeopardy music* la la la laaaa la la la. La la la la LA lalalalala…

Now that we’re all on the same page about how big this opportunity was, we can get down to business.  I should start by saying the title of this blog in no way represents my feelings about the conference.  In this case, sucky and suckier are actually positive words.  Well, for us writers they are.  For our characters, not so much. 

Some would think since we write Romance that our stories are all happy and dreamy and everyone is always smiling.  Oh how little they know.  Romance fiction, like romance in life, is filled with heartache and struggle and my favorite ingredient, angst.  You don’t create those things by giving your characters everything they want.  You create them by making them make choices.  Choices between sucky and suckier.

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, “What exactly is sucky and suckier?”  Let me give some examples.  Say I find myself hungry late at night.  Kiddo is in bed so going out is not really an option.  I check the cupboards and all I have is a diet chocolate chip cookie that I know tastes like feet, or a stick of gum.  I’m really hungry so I have to choose between sucky (the cookie) or suckier (the gum).  Either way I go, it’s not going to be good.

Maybe an example from a book or movie would be better.  Let’s go to The Wizard of Oz.  Dorothy wants nothing more than to go home, and after making her way through all kinds of obstacles and managing to out smart the Wicket Witch, the Wizard tells her he’ll only send her home if she brings him the Wicked Witch’s broom.  At this point, Dorothy has to make a choice.  She can forget the Wizard’s demand and just stay in Oz (sucky) or she can go to the Wicked Witch’s fortress and risk her life to get the broom (suckier). 

If the Wizard had simply sent Dorothy home without forcing her to make a tough decision, the story would have ended there and been anti-climactic.  And I doubt we’d be sitting through that movie every year. 

Let’s try a more romantic example.  Remember the movie Pretty Woman?  By the end of the movie, Vivian wanted Edward to see her as more than a prostitute.  She wanted the fairy tale ending.  But that’s not what Edward had to offer.  He offered to set her up as his mistress which we all know is just a higher paid prostitute with a better apartment and an expensive wardrobe. 

Vivian had to choose between accepting his offer and giving up her dignity (sucky) or walking away and never seeing him again (suckier).  I don’t think I’m spoiling it for anyone when I say she chose suckier and it really worked out for her.

The point is, if we want to keep the reader interested, give them a book they can’t put down, we have to make our characters choose between sucky and suckier.  In my WIP, my heroine has to choose between losing her job (sucky) or losing the man she loves (suckier).    I won’t tell you which she picks as I’d like to sell this book someday, but I’m hoping the suspense (and the angst!) will keep the reader turning those pages.  Okay, I might want them to cry a bit too, but we won’t mention that.

Two people meeting, smiling at each other, going on a date, then riding off into the sunset might be nice, but it’s not worth reading.  Where’s the struggle?  Where’s the strife?  Where’s the sucky and suckier?!

Do you hate making your characters choose between sucky and suckier?  Or do you not make them choose at all?  If you’re a writer, what kind of decisions to your characters have to make?  If you’re a reader, would you rather the characters just get what they want or do you enjoy riding the emotional roller coaster with them?

I’ve been hearing quite a bit about this new movie that’s coming out this week.  From what I hear it’s based on a book.  The book must have done pretty well since they bothered to turn it into a movie.  I didn’t read it but I have a friend who did and she continues to send me emails with the countdown to midnight Thursday night when she plans on being first in line to see it. 

The buzz around this thing seems centered on the cast.  Well, a certain member of the cast really.  A young man who has all the young things fluttering and changing their panties hourly.  Apparently, vampires named Edward are big this year.  Who knew?

Have you read the book?  Does Mr. Pattinson make your heart go pitter patter?  Are you looking forward to a midnight showing or staying away at all costs?

And a quick reminder, Eloisa James will be here Tuesday to talk about her next installment in the Desperate Duchesses series, When The Duke Returns.  Ms. James seems to be in the clutches of Captain Jack Sparrow and from what I hear, he came out the worst for ware.  LOL!  Be here Tuesday to read the interview of the year!

The wild, exotic call of the unseen birds penetrated deep into the lush foliage where she crouched, straining to hear some small tell tale noise that she knew was hidden beneath the sounds of the jungles. They were out there, circling her, getting closer.

Her palms sweated, her breath shorted, her heart raced to catch up with her mind as she desperately tried to think herself out of this situation. She might be able to outmaneuver one, out think the other, but they were operating as a team. She’d never stood a chance. Not against both of them, not against the dark forbidden desires they inspired in her. Escape had never really been an option.

She glanced up, stilling as everything around her had. Deep, thick, heavy, the silence was the only warning she had…

Mmm, ménages, the feeling of being surrounded and hunted down by two powerful, virile men totally focused on capturing you and taking you to the pinnacle of sexual madness. To know that you could defend yourself against one, but against two…there will be no escaping the extreme ecstasy they intend on filling your nights, days and every degree of light in between with.  

This is what a good ménage inspires in its readers. Fear, exhilaration, a taste of the exotic fruit and it’s all made safe because it’s only a book. I’m Jenny Penn, an avid reader of ménages and an erotic romance writer who specializes in writing ménages.

I get asked a lot of questions about ménages and I’ve been invited here to shine a little light on how to write one. What are the basics of a good ménage and how do they differ from a regular romance?

Strangely enough there really isn’t that much of a difference.

Yes, the sex can be a daunting task for a writer not accustomed to keeping track of so many bodies. With the way readers are beginning to gravitate toward ménage, it may seem like the sex is the most important element.

It’s not. We’re not writing Debby Does the Dallas Cowboys here. This is still a romance novel and at its heart the most important element is still the development of the romantic relationship between all the key players.

What makes a romance novel good? When the characters are so well written a reader can’t put it down and dreams that she is the heroine, that she is lucky enough to have a hero like that fall for her. With a ménage, the reader just gets more of that.

That means a good ménage requires an author to excel at characters and relationship development. It’s like juggling and you have to make sure that you keep everything in the air and moving in perfect harmony or you’ll end up with a character that’s not really included in the story and makes the reader wonder why she’s even there in the first place.

So how does a writer keep all three people involved? Personality.

We all know in real life that the way a person interacts with one individual is not the same that they relate to another. We show different sides of our personality based on the personality of the person we are dealing with.

Let me give you an example. Guy A is a charge forward, man of action kind of guy, who gets a little obnoxious when forced to slow down. Guy B is more thoughtful, sensible, slow, steady Eddie kind of guy.

Now when the heroine confronts Guy A, its all heat and passion, they might fight and have sarcastic verbal duels that always end with Guy A’s physical dominance taking control once she’s pushed him too far.

Guy B on the other hand is her confidant. He’s easy to talk to and she might find herself quickly confiding in him and seeking comfort in him, but he’s also easily outmaneuvered in a physical sense. Not to say that he’s a wimp, but he’d never push her up against a wall and force her to confront her desires.

And never forget that now you have Guy A and Guy B’s interaction. Guy A can goad Guy B into showing more of his Alpha side. Guy B can penetrate Guy A’s rough exterior to show is inner vulnerabilities.

Let me not understate the importance of this ingredient in a ménage. Scenes involving the two men are liking peeking into the men’s locker room. The reader gets an “in” to the heroes that they’d never get in a regular romance. Men do interact differently with each other than they do with women. Since both men are focused on the heroine, readers get to see that focus in its most pure, primal, masculine form and they love it.

Now the board is set. The reader can relate and develop a much deeper connection to all the characters because they are getting a full 360 view of their nature. The last thing we have to do as an author is bring all three together and let the sparks fly.

The beauty of this set up is that now as authors we don’t have to struggle to have our characters “develop” through the story or even grow. We don’t have to force them to be everything in one package, but can just allow them to be themselves. In a way, they’re more realistic despite the fact that the story is more fantastical.

This is what feeds the ménage market. A deeper association with the characters that allow the readers to be sucked even further into the fantasy the author is weaving. Of course, there is still the sex, but that, my friends, is a totally different conversation.

Okay, ‘lubbers and crew, what do you think? What questions do you have for Jenny, who so graciously braved writing about this topic? (I wouldn’t have dared!) If you do enjoy reading about a good ménage (and I have on occasion, the more, the merrier), do you agree with Jenny that a really effectively written one is more about personality than body parts? What do you think makes for an effective love scene? And what else that used to be taboo to find in romances are now becoming more and more acceptable? And I think we should give Jenny a round of applause for handling this topic so effectively!

First of all, a GIANT SQUEE to our friend Tiffany Kenzie for signing with Helen Breitweiser of Cornerstone.   We wish her every success as her manuscript, Hidden Beauty, starts making the rounds.  If you haven’t yet, hop on over to the Vauxhall Vixens and join the squee fest.

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I’ve come within sight of the End.  I’m only five chapters from finishing revisions on His Bewitching Guardian and for some reason, forcing myself to complete them has been an act that requires herculean strength. 

I’m not Hercules.  In fact, I don’t even work out.

Therefore, as you might have guessed, I’ve stalled out like the old Renault Medallion I owned in college.   Like a giant terd on the highway, I’m just waiting to be squished by any other passing vehicle with more strength and speed than me.

Vivid, huh?  Trust me; there has been no vivid imagery in my revisions these past weeks.  I’m barely stringing sentences.

All this effort is exhausting.  I’m so close I feel like that kid who drops out of college the semester before graduation.  I just don’t know if I want to keep going.

And then I realized that it’s as if I’m breaking up with my story.

I’m at the end. I know it’s the end and that before long I’m going to have to cut it loose.

I’m picking fights with it that aren’t really its fault and I know it.  It is what it is, at this point, and unless I do something serious to shake it up, there is no way to change it.  And I don’t want to change it.

I don’t even want to look at it anymore and when I open the file, I stare at it and wonder what I ever saw in it in the first place.

Everything I read from it is all wrong and my patience is at an end.

It’s not just the honeymoon that’s over; it’s the whole relationship. 

For this reason, I’ve avoided it all week.  The past two weeks, until finally, yesterday, I decided that I have to finish what I started.  When we part, I need to know that I’ve done everything I could by my manuscript so that in the future, whatever happens to us, I’ll know I put in the best effort I had to give.

I want this to be the kind of experience I look back on with a sense of whimsy. 

This is just another step in the emotional turmoil writing has been for me.  You guys have listened to me talk all year about how I’ve been feeling about each step of the way.  But it seems that I have to label my feelings like some third rate psychologist before I can move through them. 

So, what emotional speedbumps have you overcome in your writing journey?   Anyone wanna dish about good or bad breakups?  How about the guy who tells me “being in a relationship with you makes me not want to be in a relationship”?   No whimsy in that one, let me tell you.

I’m so glad to be back aboard the ship on this fine Wednesday. When Sin asked me to fill in for her this week I admit I had some performance anxiety. Fortunately, it has been a while since I’ve written much of anything, so I pulled some muse from the wonderful reading I’ve indulged in over the last couple of months. I have enjoyed reading some fabulous historical romance in my absence. I’ve discovered some authors that are new to me, and revisited some old favorites. I was pleasantly surprised at the original plots in most of the books I added to my library.

In my prolific journey, I seriously contemplated what it would entail to write a historical romance. Some of you who write in the historical genre may find my insight amusing, and off base, but a girl can always dream. I admire any writer who has a historical voice.

While riding the sigh express I formulated my recipe for writing a historical holiday romance. Most of my ingredients are light hearted and silly, but who wants their romance to be all stiff and pampas? Okay,  so stiff comes in handy with appropriate timing. Read the following recipe at your own risk, parts of it do not require an oven to get a rise in temperature. 

A rake that doesn’t fall into the sap trap as soon as he spies the heroine across the ballroom. He must remain a rake until I’m ready for him not to be. It is an added plus if he is a blue blood, perferrably a Duke or an Earl. Although I do find a historical romance with a honest man of means to be quite enticing.  l also prefer a hero who is tall and muscular in all the appropriate places. *wink* Also an added plus is a man who rides a fine steed well. There is a lot to be said about a hero who is comfortable and in control in the saddle. Giddy up. 

A red lacy chemise

The smell of sandalwood and crisp winter air

An un-chaperoned sleigh ride.

Some hot mulled cider with a splash of brandy.

A furry muff. (To warm the heroine’s hands on the sleigh ride of course.) Stay with me, you can slip into the gutter later.

A long, sensual, earth-moving kiss.

A roaring fire.

A letter that links two destinies.

A small dog that has a deep affection for humans of the male persuasion. (especially rakes who hate dogs.)

A skeleton in the closet.

A Christmas Ball at the estate of the heroes’ last paramour.

A gift and some mistletoe.

A missing silver bell.

A bed with a canopy. (because I like canopies…okay)

A steamy hot love scene that takes place in a copper bathtub and rocks Rudolph off the roof.

A heartbreaking discovery.

Some forgiveness.

A happily ever after.

Use all ingredients in a word format to total 100K. Let gel at room temperature for one month in a file entitled “Historical Dandy” then contemplate revisions. Distribute with wild abandon. Serves a multitude of readers. Sighs optional.

I want a glittery hooha.

I don’t think I’m alone in this wish. Women spend an extraordinary amount of time doing things to ourselves to make ourselves more attractive to the opposite sex. Being I was in the midst of a Chocolate Rage (i.e. you’re pissed off for no reason whatsoever, so you’re eating chocolate to try to talk yourself back off the roof and unload the gun again) and flipping through articles about “10 Things You Can Do to be Happier Right Now!”, in which I hoped one of them recommended high doses of chocolate, I stumbled upon the reason why I was so unhappy. I don’t have a glittery hooha.

Along suggestion #5 of the happiness article, my peripheral vision was distracted by “Designer Vags”, as in, yes, designer vaginas. So I clicked on it because my curiosity can’t be stopped at times. To my determent. And there was this rational, nice little article all about elective surgery to make your hooha tighter…and shinier and smaller. You know, all those things women want with all parts of their bodies. Now, admittedly, I’ve had those girl thoughts about is it “pretty” enough on all aesthetic levels, but pretty much dismissed it when “Hey, I’ve got one, he doesn’t, and he wants to play here…so I think I’m good” rationally came to mind.

I mean, if I was going to have elective surgery to have something prettied up, I’d pick something a little more obviously seen on me and seen a little more often by the majority. Despite the rumors and what Sin wrote on the bathroom wall at the Vu, my hooha has only been seen by a privileged few. (And baby, if you’re reading this blog, I actually meant: privileged one, which is you, sweetie. Thanks.)

I wondered vaguely at the things women do to win men, and about our extensive procedures we do to pretty everything up—especially there, but I thought my hooha ponderings were at a close when I traveled to a different blog. I’d find something new to distract me from emails and folders. Oh, and my chocoholic rage. That’s why I was surfing, you know. I went to the Romance Roundtable (love them!), who were giving their favorite “must reads” and stuff. Alice recommended a Jennifer Cruisie blog, and being I love all things Jennifer Cruisie, I went, knowing I was in for a laugh.

And there I learned about the magical glittery hooha. And now I understand why women all want one. We read about the glittery hooha in books, and we want one for ourselves. We are suffering from hooha envy. (Freud is going to be so disappointed it’s not the other type, I know.)

Of course, the problem with glittery hoohas is that like the unicorn, French virgins in porn movies, and Bush’s Weapons of Mass Destruction, they don’t actually exist. Yet it’s clear we’re hoping for them anyway. We want that magical element (whether it be a glittery hooha or the perfect chicken recipe) that will make us so lovable nobody, especially not that hottie we’re currently laying six ways from Sunday, will want to ever leave us.

I missed out on the original discussion of Cruisie’s blog, and I’m curious, why is it the mythical glittery hooha cures all relationship ills? Why does the notorious rake reform for this Holy Grail of Vajayjays? And why are we women so worried about them to the point we’re putting jewelry in them or going under the knife to make them…perkier, just so we can attract the opposite sex? *grins* Why aren’t we ever worried about being smart enough to catch a man? Or is that rhetorical question? And as writers, clearly this is the myth we’re all writing–should we feel guilty for perpetuating this ideal? What stories have you read that really flaunt the glittery hooha myth?

P.S. I’ve just noticed it’s Veteran’s Day…and thought about saving this blog for a different day but I thought, you know I bet the armed services have seen their share of glittery hoohas… Still, Happy Veteran’s Day. Thank you for all you do and for protecting all our hoohas, not just the glittery ones.

This weekend my chapter, Chesapeake Romance Writers, teamed with the Virginia Romance Writers of Richmond for a joint conference.  As Conference Chair for my group, I had the privilege of planning the conference with Best Selling author, Cathy Maxwell. (Excuse me while I pick up that name.  Sorry.)

The planning started back in the spring and to say I’m relieved it’s over is an understatement.  Not that I regret doing it or that I didn’t have a great time, but man that was a lot of work.  In a moment of insanity, I took on the position of registrar so my work doubled in an instant.  My goal was to have all attendees pre-registered before the day of the event.  My chapter was skeptical I could pull this off, but I’m happy to report I did.  Our goal was sixty attendees and thankfully, we hit sixty-two.  Mission accomplished!

Our speaker was the incredible Debra Dixon and if you ever have the opportunity to attend one of her workshops, GO.  I cannot say that often or loud enough.  And since Ms. Dixon and I have found that we are long lost sisters, if you go, tell her Terri said hi.

There was obviously all kinds of craft and industry things discussed and I promise to blog on those once I get my feet back on the ground and more sleep on my done list, but today, we’re going to talk about the crazy things that only happen to me.

So I send Deb Dixon a picture of myself so she’ll recognize me when I pick her up at the airport.  Then, on a whim, I color my hair the night before she arrives.  In the picture, my hair is light brown with blonde highlights.  As I type this, my hair is almost black.  I kid you not.  So when I finally walk up to Deb, the first thing she says is, “You don’t have blonde hair!”  Yeah, great start.

Luckily, she thought it was funny, forgave me pretty quick, and we set out into five o’clock traffic on a Friday.  Two hours later we completed the forty-five minute drive.  We made it just in time for dinner which was great once we got to the restaurant.  I might have taken a couple of wrong turns.  The problem was, I’ve walked Williamsburg during the day.  Never driven it at night.  But we got there….eventually.  And only had to park two hundred miles away so that’s not too bad.

Exhausted, I crashed as soon as I returned to the hotel.  My mistake was waking up at 2 am to take care of business.  For some reason, I could not fall back to sleep.  Between the worry about the next day, the life stuff back at home, and the snoring on the other side of the room (love you Bev!), sleep wasn’t coming back.  I listened to the iPod, checked email on my cell phone, tossed for about two hours.  Still nothing.

When the alarm went off at 6:30am, I wondered how angry Cathy would be if I called in sick.  Since I know Cathy was an officer in the Navy and would likely kick my arse, I headed for the bathroom.  Here’s where the strangeness doubled.  I turn around to start the shower and realize something looked odd.  There was the tub.  The new fangled curved shower bar.  The little rug and the complimentary bar of soap.  Then I realized, there was no curtain.  No. Curtain.

This is how tired I was.  I actually started looking around for the shower curtain.  As if the maid decided to play some irritating game of hide and seek and I was certain she’d put the thing on the shelf above the ironing board.  Yep, I looked there.  Nothing.

Now I start contemplating taking the shower without the curtain.  It’s not my bathroom, what do I care about water on the floor?  If the maid wasn’t so good at hide and seek, she wouldn’t have to clean up the mess.  But then I remembered my roommate would need that bathroom in another half hour so nixed the idea of creating a man made lake in the Days Inn. 

Before anyone worries I went to the conference all stinking and greasy, I did take a bath.  And that’s the TMI portion of today’s blog.  Okay, maybe we hit TMI at the “taking care of business” point but stay with me here.

The conference was fantastic and I had the time of my life.  I even pitched Marnee’s book and got her a request. That’s right, I’m THAT good.  But all I wanted at ten o’clock that night was to crawl into my bed and sleep until 2010.  This, of course, never happened.  When I got to my friend’s house to pick up my kiddo, I stepped into chaos.  Long story short, mastiff nearly kills boxer, owner needs stitches, blood everywhere, and tears flowing. 

One trip to my house only to learn my friend (who is at the ER) still has my house key, another trip to her house and I finally reunited with my pillow sometime around 1am.  Have I mentioned I’m tired?

So, here’s my question.  Do these things happen to other people?  Do you ever think you have everything figured out and have it blow up in your face?  Have you ever taken a shower without a shower curtain and figured out how not to make a mess?  If so, please share.  I’m taking notes.