I know what you’re thinking. It’s the same thing I’m thinking: there are only 107 days, give or take some hours (I’m writing this from bed and having to calculate the math in my head so you’ll forgive the disclaimer) until Harry Potter’s 6^th movie installment finally, finally is in theaters.

Okay, you’re possibly thinking at a 107 days, it’s a little soon to be getting this excited. That’s like 15 weeks away. (Here I am, trying to do math again.) Perhaps you’re right, but it’s not entirely my fault.

Last week, Warner Brothers debuted the newest movie posters, 6 of them to be exact, each featuring a prominent HP figure. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Draco, Dumbledore, and my favorite, Snape. My standard Jack Sparrow pic has now been replaced on my desktop.

Okay, so probably half my fascination with Snape is the fact that Alan Rickman is the actor who plays him; and I’ve always had a horrible, horrible crush on Al. From the moment he prowled onto the movie screen in black leather, sporting that long layered mullet-esque 1990 hairstyle for Robin Hood and making us all gloriously aware he was the only one with a credible English accent, I have adored him.

His voice—I could write odes to that man’s voice—and that handsome, rugged wrinkle in his brow, that lends him both an air that makes him look fierce and tough, and tragic and romantic. Alan Rickman admits he likes playing villains; and what’s best about Severus Snape is that he’s not the typical two-dimensional villain Al normally plays. (Remember Die Hard? Quigley Down Under?) No, Snape is more complicated. Snape is less villain than anti-hero.

What’s interesting to me about anti-heroes is that, well, I like to believe with enough time, they eventually would get their own happy ending. They could be brought from the Dark Side into the light. Their need as characters is redemption; and they know deep down they’ll never be worthy of it. I’ve always had a weak spot for those sorts of bad boys. (Unfortunately those bad boys know it, too. *LOL*)

My friend, who is also a big HP fan, also has a crush on an anti-hero, Lucius Malfoy. I think she falls into the same trap I do: her fascination has much to do with the actor as the character in the book. Patrick Isaacs does bring a certain something to the character; and admittedly, the kid who plays Draco is going to be beating off girls with a stick at this last movie. (Okay, I’m pretty sure he was beating them away as it was, but his poster *whistles through her teeth*, damn, he’s one pretty anti-hero. The suit, the haughty expression, the stance…he’s going to have as many cougars as cubs prowling after him this year.)

Harry Potter isn’t the only series littered with anti-heroes. Lisa Kleypas is great at writing heroes who appear rather anti-heroic at first. Hardy Cates, anyone? Several of her rakes, even. And yet by the end, we’re all purring as loudly as the heroine, content with their happily ever after. Boys Next Door and the bashful nerd turned hunk always make great heroes, but there is something about the fantasy in being the girl who saves an anti-hero from his own self-destruction that just makes the story so much more worthwhile. Almost like you earned the happily ever after.

Okay, okay, I know we’re always talking about anti-heroes a lot. (I can’t help it that half this ship has a weakness for Bad Boys.) Clearly the way to turn a two-dimensional villain into a hunky anti-hero is deepening your character. Elizabeth Lyon’s writing book: A Writer’s Guide to Fiction has an excellent chapter about this. (Actually all the chapters have been really excellent. I recommend this book highly if you’re wanting a reference book but are unsure which would be most useful to you. This is the book, no question.)

The key is that each character should have a meaningful past, in that there should be an event in the character’s past that wounded him so deeply that it left him with a need so intense he is driven to fulfill it (pg. 87). This wound would also leave the character with a weakness; and also possibly a strength.

Let’s take Snape. From the get-go of meeting Snape, you can pretty much determine his weakness is Harry Potter. Snape is flawed by his inability to view Harry without seeing Harry’s father, James, who we figure out soon enough Snape loathed even more than Harry. We don’t figure out why, though. Snape’s villainy towards Harry is downright petty and brattish; and you can almost laugh at Snape in book 3, when Snape is this close to having one of his childhood enemies, Sirius Black, exterminated—and Sirius mysteriously escapes. He all but stomps his foot and starts blaming Harry. But then in book 5, we get our first glimpse that there might be more to Snape’s irrational behavior than meets the eyes. After all, nobody’s perfect—not even Harry’s dad—though it is easy to forget that when the person in question is dead. You never speak ill of the dead.

In book 6, any empathy you might have had for Snape is destroyed after that moment at the top of the Tower. Even in re-reading the book, you wonder, “How could he possibly be remotely redeemable after this?” And in book 7, you wonder, “How could I not have suspected this all along? It’s so obvious.” J.K. Rowling picked her meaningful past events carefully. We get a fuller picture of the book 5 reveal; and Severus Snape has very clear reason to hate Harry’s dad. And even more reason to hate himself, after just one moment of thoughtless speech. Everybody has a story. Everybody has a point of view, even villains.

Snape’s need is REDEMPTION. He would, after all, do anything for Lily; and after being a part of her demise, he will do whatever is required of him to save her son. His weakness is his inability to look at Harry without seeing his childhood nemesis.  His hatred is a definite handicap. I would hazard a guess Snape’s strength is his love for Lily.

I think it is the meaningful past that separates anti-heroes from run-of-the-mill villains. We do find out about Voldemort’s past as well, but at no point is he anything but evil. His childhood is just as tragic as Snape’s is, but the two outcomes are so clearly different. Why and how?

What do you think? Why is it anti-heroes are redeemable but villains are not? Do you think to some degree, villains have to be more two-dimensional (black and white, emphasis on the black) to tell an effective story? Who is your favorite anti-hero who has been redeemed (movie, TV or book)? Can you identify the NEED, WEAKNESS, and STRENGTH in that character?

Countertransference is the dirty word of therapy. Professors during undergrad would throw it around as a threat. According to Wikipedia (dear god I’m quoting wikipedia), it can include a therapist transferring their emotions to the patient, or worse, “cases where the therapist literally takes on the suffering of his/her patient. In the most extreme of cases, it can result in the therapist taking on the neurosis or psychosis of the patient, such as bouts of paranoia or psychotic intervals, illustrated by Jung in the case of schizophrenia.”

I think we need a word in writing for countertransference. Or maybe there is one and I just don’t know it yet.

The reason I’ve come to this conclusion? Because over the course of one week working on my new MS, I’ve become desperate to become a pilot.

That’s right, I, who gets ill every time I’m in a plane that lands (so, all planes….thank god), have decided that in my “spare time,” I should take flying lessons and buy myself a Cessna 172 Skyhawk.

I was a bit startled by this revelation (I mean, wow, I’ve uncovered a secret, deep-set desire to defy the laws of gravity and soar into the sunset) until I remembered that while writing my last MS, I was tempted to throw it all away to become an investigative journalist.

Anyone else noticing a theme here? It seems that I like to take on the characteristics of my heroine. I mean, I know we all inadvertanly transfer our own emotions, values, nuerosis, etc. onto our characters, but I’m managing to take on their characteristics?? They’re not real!! I made them up!

So far it’s only my heroines, and only their career options, so maybe I’m safe from becoming a scizhophrenic like poor Jung up there. And I wonder if it’s only the heroine’s because I can relate better to women, or because all of my hero’s so far have obscure job titles like “super-secret uber bad-ass,” the likes of which, I am clearly not. Though I will admit to making plans with a friend to go to a firing range and take “learn all about handguns” class. But that’s just good research. Right?

I even went so far in my “countertransference” to check how much, exactly, flying lessons would cost me. Not as much, actually, as you might think. I might even be able to swing a lesson or two.

Oh god, somebody stop me now. In my next book, the heroine’s going to be a secretary.

Anybody else have this problem? Or am I clearly on the road to schizophrenia and still in denail? Any tips for picking normal jobs for your characters? Anybody else walking the fine line between research and crazy?

(sorry for the late post this morning!)

I thought I’d take the last Sunday of the month to introduce a lesser known hottie.  This one is pretty new on the scene.  On this side of the water anyway.  Most recently he could be found spending Life on Mars, and I do hope we see this guy elsewhere very soon.

One of the things I like about him is that I can completely see him as a hero in a Romance novel.  Doesn’t he looked like he could have stepped right out of the pages?  Strong jaw, gorgeous blue eyes, that look that says “capable”.  It’s all here.  Regency, Contemporary, Futuristic, I can see him fitting a hero of any time.

Anyone else see it? 

If you would like a review from someone who is fortunate enough to have already read Smooth Talking Stranger,  wonder over to Smart Bitches Trashy Books and read SB Sarah’s tasty review of this literary treat. While you’re there, take the time to check out the Save the Contemporary Campaign. A contemporary title is featured every month. It’s a great way to spread the goodness of contemporary romance. If you recommend a contemporary title, or pass on a link to the campaign, you are eligible for prizes. What a fun way to promote contemporary romance!

The countdown is on. The minutes are ticking away. It’s not as long as it has been. Very soon, I will hold in my hot little hands a copy of Smooth Talking Stranger. I know I won’t be disappointed. Lisa Kleypas never disappoints!

Lisa, I confess, I want to be just like you when I grow up! Congratulations on your nomination for a 2009 Rita Award:)

Well, I entered the Golden Heart contest in the fall and alas, I’m not a finalist.  I’d assumed as much as the manuscript had received some mixed reviews, but it’s sort of like the big break up conversation.  You know it’s over and you just have to hear the words.

I’m not ready to give up on the book yet, though.  It’s percolating in my files folder, waiting for me to be ready to revise it again. 

But yesterday, while I was trying really hard not to stalk my phone like a lion on the Sahara, I decided that there are plenty of things I can do as a Golden Heart Non-Finalist:

1.        Celebrate my non-finaling – Honestly, just entering the GH is a big accomplishment.  I managed to finish a full length novel.  Plenty of folks out there start and don’t finish.  So, I’m giving myself an A for effort. 

2.       Congratulate the finalists – A big shout out to Tina Joyce Butts who finaled in the Suspense category for her manuscript, The Surrogate.  And of course congratulations to all the Rita finalists who have been to the boat or who are coming.  (Dana Marton, Jessica Andersen, Kimberly Killion, Eloisa James, right off the top of my head.)

3.       Be disappointed – I’ve given myself 24 hours to be disappointed.  It hasn’t really taken that long.  I’m not the dwell in sorrow sort, really. 

4.       Reevaluate – This is a time to take a long hard look at what I’ve done right and what I could improve.  In the right category, I keep writing and I write on a schedule, almost every day.  I definitely think my writing is crisper.  I’ve tried to make the transition to contemporary.  (Maybe right or wrong, we’ll see.  But a change anyway.)  I need to spend some more time on my technical stuff.  And GMC, oye.  I’ll leave it at that.

5.       Keep moving forward – For me, this means write write write.  I’ve decided nothing can make the sting of not finaling go away like producing something newer and better.  And that’s just what I’m planning to do.  Besides, I won’t have to do this next year (wait by the phone on March 25) if I get published before then.  So, that’s my goal.  I’m going to avoid waiting by the phone by getting published, just out of spite.

If you’ve entered a contest and not finalled, how did you react?  What helps you keep going?  Anything else you can think to add to my list?  How’d you feel yesterday listening to the Rita/GH call stories?  What keeps you motivated in times of disappointment?

Influence this week:

Spellbound- Lacuna Coil (Shallow Life)

Haunted- Stream of Passion (Embrace the Storm)

I hate scary movies. I detest them. It’s the blood and gore and the whole idea of some idiot running up the stairs instead of out the front door. And they aren’t screaming like a banshee either. If I was that terrified that someone was going to hack me up with a butcher knife and was coming at me don’t think I wouldn’t pierce their eardrums with my banshee cry. Besides, I’ve always said that someone should be more afraid to be locked in a house with me instead of the other way around. I’ve mastered the art form of the soundless walk and melting into the dark. You’d never see me coming.

Imagination has fascinated me since I was very young. I am my own worst enemy at night. My imagination is in a constant revolving state of hyper-awareness and every time I turn around my spidey sense starts to go crazy. I sit downstairs in the dark, the monitor light glowing and reflecting from the white walls and my mind starts to turn in gloriously dark ways. Night is eerily seductive. You can be afraid of the dark, yet it lures you into it’s clutches every night as you close your eyes to sleep. You can be afraid to sit alone in a dark bar while you sip your vodka straight, yet there’s something about the man standing the in shadows of the club that makes your heart beat a little faster. It’s the danger of what might happen that is the kicker. You don’t have to be an adrenaline junkie to enjoy fear; you just have to enjoy pushing your limits.

Before I started writing with Cin, my paranormal “heroine” (she hates to be considered a heroine. She’d rather smoosh the human race under her heel like a bug than save them) I used to dream a lot about people in the dark. About dark smoky clubs with bad lighting and the smell of blood so strong even a vampire would be repelled.  The concrete floors would run with rivers of watered down red as the bar manager would take the hose to the club every night as he shut it down. I could feel his frustration running through my veins. I could hear the prostitute’s gurgling sigh as she took her last breath in the alley. Immortals blood drunk and mean cornering humans unlucky enough to be standing on the sidewalk just before dawn. The language spoken crude but oddly beautiful before you heard pitiful screams offered up to the heavens. And yet, I walked through the chaos, barefoot and moving like smoke. No one looked up as I stood over their shoulder. No one dared to second glance me. It was like I didn’t exist. Yet when I looked into her haunted blue eyes, she saw me- the frightened little rabbit in the snake hole.

Her lips upturned ever so slightly. Her brilliant white teeth stained red. And even though her lips never moved, I heard her say, “Welcome to my world.”

For months I walked through her world in my dreams. I stalked down dark alleys and hid in the darkened corners of the club.  My feet cold and cut and blackened from the asphalt during those hot summer nights. She told me to stay out of sight. Don’t attract attention. Keep my hood up and shielding my eyes. I watched from that bar stool as she worked every night at the bar. I overheard the conversations and saw the gleam in their eyes as she walked by. She was an easy target. At least she let them think that way. There was something feral about the way she moved. She was careful. Careful not to move, careful not to speak. And then I saw him watching her from the shadows. For the first time since I’d known her, I saw her veneer slip. I saw the real her and it scared me.

The shift in her body language changed. If you hadn’t spent night after night watching and memorizing you’d never caught it; but I knew as soon as she came up to me and grabbed a hold of my arm, the man meant trouble.

“Don’t speak. Don’t look. Keep your head down and shut up.”

We closed out like every night. We took the back way out, into the alley with the prostitutes lurking. She was small compared to me, but moving much quicker. The shift was sudden, and she fell into a defensive crouch. She shoved me behind her and the toxic glow of blue engulfed the alley. Within a blink of an eye, she went from a seemingly normal being to a glowing light bulb. The electric charge singed my hair and afraid I fell back from her to my knees.

I felt fear. I felt it that night.

He stood at the exit of the alley, twice her size, shadowed by the street light behind him. I knew he was there for her. She thought he was there for me.

The silence stretched on. His eyes were intently focused on me. Her eyes on him. There was a dialogue going on that I wasn’t a part of. I watched her shift, and her foot came closer to me as she brought her hand up in front of her palm first. That was the last thing I saw of her, he moved so fast, I never saw his fist coming.

I woke up in a blind panic. The covers knotted around my legs and bound me to the bed. Sweat rolled from my forehead and my heart leapt from chest. Under the Flood guitar rifted as my alarm screamed past my wake up time. I fell from the bed, knees weak, feet sore, arms aching.

The shower only amplified my imagination. The feeling of eyes watching my every move increased each time I closed my eyes. He followed me back. I dreaded the time when I was alone in the dark that night.

Yet, when I laid my head down to sleep that night, I dreamed not of Cin. I dreamed of nothing. The field, the wind blowing through the farmlands and the sounds of trees creaking under the stress of the high winds.

The feeling of electricity short-circuiting the air.

So now that I’ve revealed that I’m slightly creepy and paranoid in the dark, it’s time for you to let loose. What sort of things creep you out? Childhood fears that you’ve shoved in the closet and long forgotten about- yet they’ve slowly worked their way into your writing? Does anyone else use their dreams for writing?

Terri talked yesterday about doing things that were good for us as writers, things we should not feel guilty for doing: going to conferences, networking, making the connections to take us to the next step of being a professional writer. I’m going to talk about taking care of your writer self in a completely different way. Not the mental game, but the physical one.

Writing is grueling work. I know you wouldn’t suspect it with all that sitting and typing we do. We’re not exactly ditchdigging here, but all in all, I think on the whole ditchdiggers might be healthier than we are. They’re outside, working hard in a cardio sort of way, sweating, working the muscles, breathing fresh air (mostly). Yeah, I’d never want that job either—much too hard and in sunlight—but I admit, they’re probably in much better shape than I am.

Granted that’s not going to take a lot. I’m not exactly little Miss Cardio. And if my lack of stamina wasn’t bad enough, there’s my posture. I’m a sloucher. I’m constantly holding up walls, doorjambs, and curling up in my office chair in inappropriate manners because it’s too exhausting to sit upright with my feet on the floor for the whole eight hours. I curl over my keyboard, my shoulders rounding skyward, my ears lowering, and I’m literally petrifying into this tight little knot of tension. If my bad posture and bad work habits were not enough, I like to make it worse by going to the gym, exercising with weights, and then not stretching after. (Oh, yeah, right, I’m the only one guilty of this. Whatever.)

I could blame my horrible posture on my job, but I also have that unassuming personality. You know the one I’m talking about. The low self-esteem turtle hunch. The one that says if I round my shoulders and curl up into a ball, I’ll be invisible and maybe no one will notice I’m still that geek from high school.

Yeah, whatever. Everyone still knows I’m a geek. I should do my shoulders a favor and stop trying to be invisible in the middle of a room. It’s not going to work. Invisibility cloaks only exist in Harry Potter’s world, not the Muggles’.

Here is what I’m learning: You can’t be an effective writer if your neck is out of joint. How can you expect to get into your character’s head if you’re plagued by pain? (“A plague on both your houses!”) Be a good writer and take some preventive measures already.

Now there are some writers who ascribe to the House of Pain method of writing, where they’re drinking, smoking, cramped over a computer keyboard, drinking coffee like it’s a nutritional equivalent of fruits and vegetables. I call these people Sadists. Don’t be that writer. It doesn’t make you a nice writer. It saps away your concentration; and I assure you, if you’re using your pain to tap into so you can inflict it on your characters, there are easier ways to do it than to give yourself a backache.

First, do some “good posture” exercises. Petrified into a hunched curl over a keyboard is not Survival of the Fittest here, guys. Don’t undo all the good our ancestors did us by evolving into an upright position, by hunching back down again. I think this guy offers some very good exercises to stretch out those key areas and improve our posture. Plus I think one of them is what my massage therapist was showing me to do, and that I always forget to practice. Surprise, surprise. I’m sure my massage therapist has a support group with my dental hygienist. “I tell her over and over and she doesn’t listen!”

Secondly, get some exercise. Take a walk, go for a run, go to the gym and take a class. Try to work in some yoga: it’s good for the muscles and the mind. And as a writer, we know you’re pretty screwed up anyway. You could use yoga.

Thirdly, consume things other than cigarettes, coffee, and chocolate. You get bonus points if you fix something other than a sodium-laden popsicle meal. Some fruits and veggies, guys. You’ll thank me later when you don’t get scurvy and colon cancer.

Lastly, if you can afford to get a massage once a month, do so. You’ll thank me later. You’ll thank everyone later, it feels that good.

Taking care of yourself in these simple ways really improves all areas of your life, including your writing. As women, I believe we tend to take care of ourselves last and feel guilty if we move ourselves ahead of anything on our mental lists. We should really stop. As Erma Bombeck said, the world isn’t going to stop turning if we stay in bed when we’re sick. Well, I think we should take it a step further and throw some preventive measures in as well. As my yoga instructor always says at the end of each class: Know that this one hour you’ve taken for yourself makes you a better person for you and those around you for the other 23.

What do you do to take care of yourself and nurture the “physical” writer? And do you also find taking care of your physical self pays off in big dividends on your mental game as well? (I do. Taking care of myself physically gives me a big mental boost that “I’m worth it.” I feel like a Clairol ad.)

It’s redundant to say the economy is in the crapper right now.  We all know it and we’re all feeling it.  People are losing their jobs left and right and if they haven’t lost it yet, they’re worried they will.  If nothing else, I think this recent catastrophe has reminded us of something we already knew – if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

If you follow news about the publishing industry, you’re seeing articles about shake ups at the big houses, profits down, new deals reduced, and industry uncertainty about new technologies and how to handle them.  Old business models aren’t working anymore but no one has come up with a new model that works either.

Lets face it, the news is damn depressing.  But, there is one tiny caveat – Romance fiction sales are up.  According to an article by Ben McIntyre in The Times, “Publishing may be facing the same problems as other businesses, but some books are booming. Escapist romantic fiction is in the pink. Mills & Boon is selling three books a second, and Cheryl Cole, of Girls Aloud, has signed a £5million deal to write romantic novels.“

That, my friends, is good news.

Now I have to admit I stole the idea for the rest of this blog straight from Literary Agent Jessica Faust over on the Book Ends blog.  But only because she said exactly what I said to J Perry on the phone days several days before Ms. Faust’s post.  (Back me up on this, J.)  And if you really want to know the ins and outs of this business, I highly recommend reading the Book Ends blog as well as those of agents Nathan Bransford and Kristin Nelson.

I keep hearing people say they won’t be in Washington DC for the RWA National Conference this summer because they can’t justify the expense when they haven’t sold anything.  So the question is, are conference expenses only justifiable if you’re published?  Do you consider yourself in a career as a writer if you’re unpublished?

How you answer these questions says a lot about where you might be going, or not going, in this writing endeavor.

The way I see it, once you decide you want a writing career, you take certain steps to make that happen.  You do some research and figure out what you want to write.  You get started and continue to practice and learn about the craft of writing.  You join organizations specifically established for writing professionals.  And you network.  Networking can be done online, but it’s much more effective in person and that means attending conferences.

Is one of the purposes of attending conferences to pitch to agents and editors?  Yes.  Is it the only purpose?  No.  There are many purposes and reasons for attending conferences and one of the most important is networking.  So why do we beat ourselves up about this expense?  We’re less likely to feel bad about buying another ink cartridge for the printer, or paying that internet bill every month, or picking up all those new books that are clearly for research purposes. 

So why do we feel guilty about conference fees? 

You never know when you’re going to make friends with the newly published author who asks about your work, reads a little and recommends you to her agent. You never know when you’re going to sit down at the bar next to an editor who just happens to be looking for something new, asks you about your work, and loves the idea of a witch who gets her powers from having sex.  And none of these events would have happened if you didn’t plunk down that cash and attend that conference.

Now, I’m not trying to guilt anyone into attending a conference or insinuate that if you don’t attend, you’re not serious about being a writer. What I am saying is, if you look at writing and publishing and selling your own books as a career goal, then approach it that way.  Give yourself permission to take advantage of every opportunity without having to defend yourself or justify the expense.  You do not become a writer when you sign your first contract, you become a writer when you decide to write.

What say the rest of you?  How do you think of conferences?  Have you attended any?  What did you get out of it?  Did you make a connection that has helped or you think will help you get noticed/represented/sold?  Anyone else think a conference held in Tortuga would be awesome?!

It’s still March and so we continue our tribute to the Hotties of the Emerald Isle.  This week we have one you could call an oldie but goodie.  He’s been an Austen hero, a Roman Emperor, a Lingerie Designer and most recently, a US Federal Agent determined to capture some aliens.  (Race to Witch Mountain – very cute movie btw)  Over nearly three decades, he’s also been just about everything else.

We’ll take him in powdered wig, molded armor, or a good pair of loose fitting jeans.  The costume doesn’t matter because he says it all in his face.  He’s intense and charming and a true gentleman.  And if his name isn’t perfect for an Irish hero, I don’t know what is.

As of this weekend, Spring has officially started.  She’s making a very understated entrance over here in the Mid-Atlantic.  Is she making a warmer, sunnier entrance anywhere else?

Quartermaster Sin slides down the ratlines from the crows nest, well aware of the dashing picture she creates. As she lands lightly on the rail, she glances over toward the bar, hoping for some quick refreshment. But the bar is empty, no bottles lined up. No bartender. The monkey jibbers at her shoulder, draws her attention to the deck near the bow. There 2^nd Chance sits, surrounded by books, charts, sheets of graph paper and scattered highlighters of every color. The barkeep appears frazzled.

- “What’s she about?” Sin glances at Terrio and Marnee, perched on the railing.

- “Don’t know. But it’s a mess.” Terrio sighs. “We be thirsty but she’s hidden the rum away till she’s done.”

- “Send Jack looking for it, he’ll find it. Can’t keep that pirate high and dry. He’ll sniff it out.” Sin chuckled.

- The sound of cursing and crashing comes from below as Lisa and Hal climb up to the deck. Hal shrugs, “She’s good. Can’t find a trace of drink.”

- “She can’t do this! Let’s throw her overboard.” Lisa glares at the bow. “What does she want? Ransom? More blog days?”

- “I asked.” Marnee shudders. “She said something about magic. She casting spells now?”

- “I doubt it, she knows the captain don’t like potions messing up the galley. Santa nearly mutinied last time. Her double boiler was nearly ruined!” Sin sniffed. “Must be some other sort of spell.”

- “It is.” Captain Hellion strolled over, dismissing last Sunday’s hottie to finish cleaning up her cabin. “She’s looking for the magic of creating devoted fans. She’s got all my Harry Potters over there, a pile of Nora’s books, Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, a bunch of Mary Janice Davidson, Eloisa…Sin’s Twilight books…” Taking a breath the captain decides not to continue.

“Oh.” Sin snickered. “I get it. But I’m thirsty, enough is enough! And she can’t mess with my books!” With a grin, Sin marches to the bow determined to haul Chance away from the newest dilemma.

Yes, I want that magic. I want the magic of the devoted fans. The delightfully witty, slightly obsessed, totally charmed fans. I want to inspire legions (well, maybe not that many, I don’t want them marching on my driveway or anything!) … OK, I want to inspire a dedicated fan club. I want my blogs quoted and shared, and talked about. I want fans lined up to sign my books. To bid on signed editions on e-bay. I want to be invited to speak at conferences, to be a guest at pirate weddings… Be on the cover of Pirate Magazine…

I want my fans to dress like pirates and attend pirate festivals. I want them to talk like pirates, collect maps of the Caribbean, try out rum recipes, fall in love with sailing…read all my books. Make up buttons of the clever things I write…t-shirts, hats, journals. Sigh, the whole shebang.

So, how did the rest do it? What is the formula? The spell? Please, don’t tell me it’s kids, ala Rowling. Is it wizards, ala Tolkien? The atmosphere and descriptive beauty of Nora? The wit of Davidson? The characters of Eloisa?

All of the above? We all read stories that cause that inner bell to ring true. That sees us line up to buy the new book when it comes out, dress up like hobbits to stand in line at the movies, (or pirates). (Yes, I did both, though I dressed up like an elf.) What happens to see us devote shelf after shelf to the books, read them until they tatter, stalk Mary Janice… (nevermind.)

What do you think? What does it take to inspire this level of involvement? What was it that made your heart sing at a new cover? Or dress like your favorite character? Write fanfic? Write an actual fan letter?! What did these authors do so right?  And how do I do it!!?? I’m keepin’ the rum hidden till I get some answers!