I could sense it when I walked down the candy aisle in my local grocery store. Those special St. Valentine’s Day red and pink M and M’s are on the shelves! I resisted buying them (because I’m still clinging to my New Year’s resolution). But those candies started me thinking of all my favorite romance movies.

I’m not going to list them all. There are way too many, but when I’m surfing channels on my TV, there are a select few I have to sit down and watch until the end.

I fell in love with “Moonstruck” the first time I saw it, and nothing has changed my mind. I’m half Italian–so that could come into play. But I also think that love–when it comes–”strikes” us, and it has very little to do with logic and usually nothing to do with what we think we want. Romeo and Juliet might have lived to a ripe old age if Romeo hadn’t crashed the party the Capulets were throwing that night. (I particularly like the love story of Cher’s parents that’s threaded in. And what’s not to like about the performances by Cher and Nicholas Cage?)

I’m also a fan of “The American President.” When it first came out, I paid to see that movie more than once because I enjoyed taking my sister and then my nieces to see it. It has the classic romance plot structure: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, and boy gets girl back. Plus, it has great performances by Annette Benning, Michael J. Fox and Martin Sheen. Once again, love is a surprise and not a very convenient one.

I love, love love “Myrphy’s Romance.” If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it–James Garner and Sally Field in a May-December love story. (All men should look as good as James Garner does at sixty!) This is a movie that I insisted my parents rent, and I watched it with them. So my perception could be tainted by the fact that both of them really enjoyed it–especially my mother. Once again, love comes as a surprise–but this time it’s the heroine who’s truly shocked by it. And my favorite scene is when she realizes that she’s fallen in love for the first time.

If you ask my three sons what my favorite movie is, they will say (stifling a groan–or not) that it’s Alfred Hitchcock’s “North by Northwest.” (That’s because when they were growing up, they had to watch it with me several times each. I wouldn’t allow them to change the channel. Mom’s rules!) It’s not a classic love story. It’s classic Hitchcock, and the sexual tension is to die for. Hitchcock was a master at creating it.

Those are the romance movies that the candy aisle started me thinking about. Do you have any special favorites? I’d love to hear about them.

It’s that time when I start to make my list of resolutions for the New Year. I try very hard not to become discouraged by the fact that I could really just dig out last year’s list and use them again.

Thanks to my Dad, I’m an optomist. I tend to see the glass as always half full. So I really believe–especially at the beginning–that I can actually make some good changes in my life. A partially new me is at least a possibility.

However, I will admit that the top two resolutions on my list are annual repeaters:
1) I’m going to lose weight.
2) I’m going to exercise at least five days a week.

Does that mean that I failed in past years? Not really. (See…I really am a glass half full kind of girl). I’ve always had to keep close tabs on my weight. It’s another thing I inherited from my dad. But I also inherited his solution which was to set a limit on how much weight he would allow himself to gain (five pounds) before he took it off. My taking off time starts in January.

The exercise thing is a bit more problematic for me. Last year I started off strong and walked every day on my treadmill for the whole month of January. Then I reverted to my old couch potato self. This year I’m trying a bribe. Each time I go to my basement to get on the dreaded treadmill, I get to watch a half hour of “Midsommer Murders.” And the DVD set is staying in the basement! So if I want to know “who done it,” I have to go back down to the treadmill the next day and find out.

This year, in addition to my stand-by resolutions, I’m adding a third. In fact, I’m going to put it at the top of my list and I’m going to really take some action. My primary New Year’s resolution for 2010 is to de-clutter my house.

I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time. Mostly because I am a world class clutterbug. I’ve even done some research on the problem. About eight or nine years ago, I bought a book on Feng Shui and another book about clearing clutter and reorganizing my life. I even read parts of them. I’ve also read tons of articles on simplifying my surroundings, rightsizing my life, and purging my trash.

So on an intellectual level I know that clearing the junk out of my house will improve the flow of chi. I know that untimately, if I’m clutter free, it will help my writing, my creativity, my teaching…and, hopefully, everything else in my life. I’ll even make more money. (Maybe I’ll even be using my treadmill in March or April!)

I know how the de-cluttering thing is done. I’ve been an avid viewer of the Canadian TV show, “Neat,” where this attractive lady comes to your house and saves your sanity (and sometimes your marriage). She not only helps you throw out the trash you’ve been hording, but she also helps you organize what’s left. The show is a lot like “Clean House” but with less “drama” and no yard sale.

But in spite of my knowledge of the process, my kitchen drawers remain the burial grounds for junk, at times, I can no longer walk into my closets, and more times than not, my purse won’t zip shut,

However, this year will be different. I’m actually going to attack the problem. I’m going to set aside two hours a week and go through my house room by room. I think I can handle that. Of course, there will be a bribe involved–a nice glass of Chardonnay to relieve the stress of purging.

And since I’m my father’s daughter, I’m going to believe that next year, I really will be a whole new me. I will no longer be a clutterbug. I’ll be a recovering clutterbug!

Do you have any New Year’s resolutions that you want to share? Or do you have any stories to share about the resolutions that are always with you?

I was thinking the other day of memories I have of Christmas. Unlike Fiona Gallagher, the heroine of my December Blaze, my memories are all very happy ones–but a few stand out.

My earliest one dates back to the year when I was two and a half.

And it isn’t Christmas Day or Santa or the presents I remember that year. In fact, I don’t remember those at all. It’s Christmas Eve that stands out because that was the day my mom and my brand new baby sister came home from the hospital.

I can still picture the Christmas tree tucked in a corner of the living room. The lights are on and there’s a fire crackling in the fireplace. But what I remember most clearly is standing on the couch in the living room, peering out the front window, and waiting to see the ambulance pull up at the curb. Because that’s how my mom and the new baby were scheuled to arrive.

According to my mom, I paid very little attention to her or my new sister. It seems I was totally fascinated by the ambulance. (I can still see it with the big red light fhalsing around and around. Amazing!)

The next Christmas that stands out in my mind was when when I was five, and my sister and I were living temporarily with my grandmother, my great-grandfather and my Aunt Mary.

My Aunt Mary fascinated me. She was a single woman who worked and went out on dates, and my sister and I were always welcome in her room. She used to let us play with her make up and she never tired of answering questions or helping us put on nail polish or letting us try on her clothes.

That Christmas Eve for some reason, I was allowed to sleep in her bed. And that was the night that I heard reindeer land on the roof. No kidding! I really heard the bells and the sound of the hoofbeats. But I was very quiet and I pretended I was asleep. The next morning, there were lots of presents under the tree, and I remember getting a tea set. The plates and cups and saucers were blue.

I also recall having a conversation with my great-grandfather about how Santa delivered the presents because there was no fireplace in that house. He had it covered though. He told me that he’d let Santa in the back door. Probably right after I’d heard the reindeer land on the roof.

My great-grandfather was a fascinating man too. He chewed tobacco and spit into a shiny brass cuspidor. And he always ate his dessert first–just in case he died before the meal ended. My grandmother wouldn’t let my sister and me join him–not even on Christmas.

The final memory I’ll share is my son Kevin’s first Christmas. He was three months old, and my husband and I surprised each other with the same gift–a movie camera. Talk about an O. Henry “Gift of the Magi” Christmas! We returned one and used the money to buy a projector and a screen.

Which Chritmas memories stand out in your mind?

Fair warning: this post is going to ramble a bit. But ever since I watched the premier of “White Collar,” a new hour long drama on the USA network, I’ve been thinking about characters…and their importance to story. (And yes, the title of my post is the little marketing blurb that the USA network uses to advertise not only its original series but also the shows from other networks that it reruns–”Characters Welcome.”)

I absolutley loved “White Collar.” So much so that I watched an immediate rerun on Saturday morning–and I’m on a mind-crunching deadline! The two main characters are an FBI agent assigned to white collar crime and a convicted forger who is released into his custody as a consultant. I found myself liking both men–even though I’ve been partial to art thieves as heroes ever since I first saw Cary Grant in Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief.” Instead of a hero and a sidekick, this series has two heroes. What more could a girl ask?

And the reason I was tempted to watch it again and that I will tune in next Friday night is because I really like all the characters–including the wife of the agent and his junior lesbian assistant. They’re all smart, they all intrigue me, and I want to see what they’ll do next.

That got me thinking about what other TV shows are on my “must see” list and why. It turns out that what seems to attract me to a TV show is always the characters–their quirks, their foibles, their flaws, and their complicated relationships with other characters, including their families.

The characters are certainly why I’ve been a fan of NCIS since it started. (Okay, I also think that Mark Harmon is serious eye candy. When he was a guest on “West Wing” and they killed him, I stopped watching that show. But I like all of the other characters on NCIS too–especially Ducky and Abby.) The characters and the way they develop over time are why I remained hooked on “Sex and the City” and “The Sopranos” until both series ended.

My current favorite TV show is “The Closer,” and that show is all about character. I’ll tune in for every episode, not because I’m interested in the case, but because I’m dying to know just how Brenda is going to solve it (and how the officers she works with will help her.) I love the way the writers have developed her relationship with her colleagues over four seasons. But I especially love the way the love story between Brenda and Fritzie has grown.

Okay–so characters are important to me when I select the TV shows I want to watch. That led me to consider what part they play in my writing. The answer to that is that they mean everything. I can’t even develop a good working premise until I figure out who the characters are. And in spite of the fact that Blazes are relatively short books, I love to create unique secondary characters.

I particularly enjoy creating older characters. In one of my Blazes I even ran a secondary love story between two characters in their sixties. (He was an ex-con and she was an art thief.) In the book I’m currently working on, the hero and heroine have to solve a murder that happened fifty-five years in the past. I’m dealing with the challenge of keeping the senior citizen killer smart, mobile, and able to kill again.

After musing about my fascination with characters (since my “White Collar” experience last Friday night), I’ve decided that one of the reasons “characters” are important to me is that I’ve grown up with a lot of them in my family. And my love of older characters probably stems from the fact that one of my great grandmothers had fourteen children, so I grew up with a lot of wonderfully unique aunts and uncles.

The one who comes to mind is my Aunt Ethel who lived into her nineties and to the very end loved Casino gambling, drank her martinis straight up, and always managed to look as though she’d just come from a cover shoot for Vogue Magazine.

And how did I get from “White Collar” to my beloved Aunt Ethel? I warned you I would ramble.

Are characters (including secondary ones) important to you?

September 29th was my mother’s birthday, and I’ve been thinking about her a lot this weekend. It seems only right that I should mention her in a blog today.

I live a very busy life. I always have. (And who doesn’t?) But every so often, my mom, who was a “nudger” and not a nag, would ask: “Are you taking the time to live in the moment?”

Most of the time, the answer was no. Even now, I find it hard to do that. Lately, my life seems to be an endless to-do list. As soon as I cross one item off, another pops up to replace it. Sad to say, I’m often too caught up in racing from this moment to the next to ever really savor the one I’m in.

I do have excuses. (And I’m good at naming them!) The end of August and the whole month of September is always hectic. There are always those writing deadlines. Then there are the on-going family dramas I have to referee. And there is the challenging task of juggling the beginning of the fall semester at the two colleges where I teach. There are student names to put together with faces, first papers to grade, and this year there are the swine flu rules, regulations, and warnings that have been flooding my email inbox. (I have never washed my hands so often in my entire life!)

A decade ago, I would have mentioned other things (perhaps shopping for college and shoe-horning a freshman son into his first dorm room), but the list would have been just as long.

What brought my mom’s advice to mind this weekend is that in spite of my chaotic, no-room-left-schedule, I scheduled a trip to visit my two grandchildren who live in Florida. Marian is seven and Andrew just turned five. I live in Syracuse, New York, and I can’t seem to go for more than two months without seeing them. So–did I have the time to visit them this weekend? No. But I had a need. Even as I saw my to-do list expanding exponentially in my absence, I booked the flight. And anticipating the visit was what got me through the week.

However, it wasn’t until I was with them the past weekend that I realized what it is they do for me. Like nothing else that I can think of, they allow me to live totally in the present moment. And they teach me to savor it. During the time I’m with them, the deadlines and the students and the piles of essays–even the family dramas–disappear.

And there is only Andrew showing me how he can spiral underwater from one end of the pool to the other. There is only Marian reading to me about the human respiratory system and how important the alveoli are. (If you’d asked me last Friday what alveoli were, I would have guessed a delicious pasta sauce!)

Whenever I visit them, Marian and Andrew and I repeat the rituals we’ve established during other visits. We go to the same mall. (Only now, I shop with Marian for shoes as well as toys. She’s inherited my mother’s shoe-loving gene). We eat lunch at the same restaurant where we have a favorite table, we throw coins into a fountain, and make wishes, and we often go to a movie.

This past weekend we saw “Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs” in 3D. I highly recommend it. Of course, it’s much more enjoyable if you see it with a five year old sitting on your lap. (Not because he’s scared. Five is much too old to be scared. It’s just that the 3D glasses work better from that angle.)

There were two things I was thinking about as I Jet Blued my way back to Syracuse. One is that I need to find more ways to “live in the moment” in my busy day to day life. My mom was right about that. Living more in the moment will not only enrich my creativity, it will enrich my life.

The other thing I was thinking is how much I owe my mom. What I’m doing with my grandchildren, treasuring the moments, building memories, is exactly what she did with my three sons. Once she flew into Syracuse from Detroit and then took them back to Michigan on the train so that they could have their first train ride.

She was amazing! And she was a lot better at savoring the moment than I am. Happy Birthday, Mom!

How do you find ways in a busy, busy life to live in the moment?

This isn’t about the movie. I haven’t even seen “Julie and Julia” yet–even though my sister calls me every few days to check and to nag. But the previews and my sister’s reminders have started me thinking about my long term relationship with Julia.

I can’t credit Julia Child with instilling in me a love of cooking. My mom and dad did that. Mom was Irish and she was raised on a working farm. Meat, potatoes, bread, and butter were the mainstays of her cuisine. She always followed recipes, and she canned the best dill pickles and chili sauce that I’ve ever eaten. My dad was Italian and he was what I would describe as a performance cook. When he was in the kitchen, he wanted an audience. And cooking was his second passion–right after practicing medicine. He was pretty ruthless in his pursuit of new recipes. One time when we were at a restaurant, he excused himself from the table, walked into the kitchen and charmed the chef out of his secret recipe for minestrone soup.

There is an old saying that too many cooks spoil the broth, but in my home, the rule was the more cooks, the merrier. I was invited to join in the fun from the time I was seven or eight. I made my first pumpkin pie when I was ten. I remember it because I used whole cloves instead of ground. And no one said a word. There were no snickers, not a word of criticism. As we came across them, we took the whole cloves out of our mouths and deposited them on our plates–just as if that was the normal way to eat pumpkin pie.

And that brings me back to Julia. She was the first chef I ever saw on TV (and I watched many of those early shows). She confirmed what I’d already learned in my parents’ kitchen–mistakes are okay. In fact, they’re to be expected. The important thing is to pick that chicken up off the floor and get on with the meal. Being able to carry on after mistakes–both big and little–is a practice I’ve carried through life and I hope I’ve passed it on to my children.

I’m also connected to Julia in other ways. I was married with two sons when I bought my copy of “The Art of French Cooking.” I had quit my day job as an English teacher and I was looking for some kind of creative outlet. Experimenting with French cuisine gave me that. I certainly didn’t cook my way through the cookbook. (Kudos to Julie, but she didn’t have two boys clinging to her legs so that she had to stumble around the kitchen like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein while she was whipping up coq au vin.)

Two of Julia’s recipes became traditional favorites in my home. The first was the above mentioned coq au vin. I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Paris twice, and both times I’ve ordered coq au vin at this little bistro on the Seine where it’s supposed to be the best in the city. Julia’s is better. But be warned. It takes hours to prepare; you have to peel all those little pearl onions, you have to have the courage to flame brandy, and you have to use as many pots as you have burners on your stove and then clean them up. But it’s always worth it.

Her recipe for Coquilles St. Jacques a la Parisienne became the dish I served traditionally on Christmas Eve and it too became a family favorite. (Of course, as the two boys grew older and we acquired a third one, I added fish filets to the scallops to make the dish affordable.) In the early years, we would eat this wonderful meal after attending an early Christmas Eve Mass where one or more of the boys would act in a Christmas pageant and drop the frankincence or gold–and once even the Christ child. Thank heavens Julia always recommended a good wine.

Aside from the memories and traditions I’ve created in my own family, thanks to Julia, I also owe her for showing me that you should always follow your passion. That’s really how I became a writer. Joseph Campbell writes about it, but Julia Child lived it.

Thanks, Julia. Are there women who’ve influenced you and inspired you?

I’ve always been an avid reader. And I credit my parents with my lifelong addiction to polular fiction. My dad read to relax, and he was always willing to share from the pile of paperback mysteries and westerns he kept on the table near his bed. My favorites were Earl Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason mysteries. (Much later, after I became a writer, I learned that Earl dictated his books. Color me very jealous.)
My mom was also a reader. As it happens, she handed me my very first Harlequin romance novel to read. She told me I would like it. And, of course, she was right. When I was growing up, she subscribed to several women’s magazines, and I loved the ones that included a condensed novel. I can credit the editors at “Good Housekeeping” and “Redbook” with giving me my first taste of romantic suspense. (And I loved it.)
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the books and authors who’ve had an inlfuence on my writing, and some of them date back to those early days.
At the top of my list is Carolyn Keene. You may not recognize the name, but Carolyn (probably a pseudonym for several writers) wrote the Nancy Drew mysteries. My Aunt Kathleen gave me my first one to read when I was seven. It took me a long time to finish it, but I did. And then I was hooked.
Nancy became my heroine. She was bright and independent and she drove a convertible–a coupe. (I had no idea what that was, but I wanted one.) Nancy had two best friends, George and Bess, a handsome and fairly undemanding boyfriend named Ned, and a father who was always supportive and rarely interfered in her life.
She was leading the life I wanted to lead. She had exciting adventures, she solved mysteries, and she had an ingenious way of getting herself out of trouble. I still carry an image of Nancy in my head. She’s tied up in a locked room and she gets herself rescued by tap dancing S.O.S. in Morse code on the door. Amazing!
There’s not a doubt in my mind that I owe Carolyn Keene and Earl Stanley Gardner for the fact that in every single romance I write there’s always some kind of intrigue in the subplot. So far none of my heroines have ever tap danced their way out of trouble–but, hey, you never know…
Another author who has influenced my writing is one I first came across in a women’s magazine–Mary Stewart. Mary wrote several romantic suspense novels before she turned her attention to the Arthurian legend. My favorite is “Nine Coaches Waiting.” The book is a superbly crafted twenthieth century version of “Jane Eyre.”
In addition to inspiring me with her books, Mary Stewart also influenced me to start writing. In an interview, she was once asked what led her to write her first novel. She said that one summer she simply couldn’t put it off any more. She had to write. I wish I could say that after reading that, I sat down and wrote my first book. I didn’t. But her words kept coming back to haunt me until I finally stopped putting off the compusion to write. One summer, I set myself the goal of writing a romance. I wrote it on yellow legal pads at the rate of about eight pages a day. (The dictating thing has never quite worked for me!)
Did I sell that first book? No. It wasn’t very good. (The word “dreadful” comes to mind. And it didn’t have a mystery in it). The important thing about book #1 is that I finished it. Finally, I’d stopped putting off my dream of “becoming a writer.” And that book led to my second book and may third…and all the rest.
So I owe a big thanks to Carolyn and Earl and Mary!
Who are the authors who have most influenced you?

Recently, I was asked this question by one of my colleagues at Syracuse University where I teach in the Writing Program. The young man asking the question has a Ph.D in English Literature, he’s well read, he’s an excellent teacher, and he was sincerely interested.

I began by giving my standard answer. “I write romance novels for Harlequin.” Then I remember to add that Harlequin is the world’s largest publisher of women’s fiction. Often, that’s all I need to say. The questioner usually has some familiarity with romance novels and/or Harlequin, if not personally, then through a girlfriend, a sister, an aunt or a mother.

On my last visit to Florida, I was having lunch with my seven year old granddaughter and she revealed my pseudonym and my “secret” writing life to our waitress. Although the woman had never read a romance novel, she knew about Harlequin and promptly called her mother to let her know that she’d met a real live romance novelist. Then she told me how her job brings her into contact with all kinds of celebrities. She’s met a lot of the Boston Red Sox too. (So Cara Summers is right up there on a list with the Boston Red Sox. Yaayy!)

But my colleague at Syracuse has no idea about what kind of books Harlequin publishes or what a romance novel is–except that it contains sex. (A lot of it.) Since we were chatting at a computer, he brought up my Web site and took a good look at the covers of my two Wrong Bed Books–”Twin Temptation” and “Twin Seduction.”

His first question: “If I click on one of these excerpts, am I going to be uncomfortable or embarrassed?”
My answer: “Probably.” (Hopefully!)

His next questions: “So what kind of books are these? Are extra-marital affairs predominant? What are the books like?”

Since he was truly interested, I launched into a explanation of what category series romance is, how many lines there are, and what audiences the different lines target. Of course, that eventually brought us back to the fact that as a Blaze author, I write for one of the sexiest lines.

(He’s still not clicking on any excerpts, but he is scrutinizing the covers. I’m thinking of telling him to click on the “Cara Cooks” link. No sex there. Just good recipes. He might enjoy the Thai-style grilled shrimp.)

Then he asks: “So tell me what is one of your books like? What’s the story like?”

I answer by describing a Wrong Bed book. The premise that I’ve always used is that the hero and heroine go to bed early on in the story and they believe initially that they’ve made a horrible mistake–that they’re so wrong for one another. (Thus, the Wrong Bed idea). Then through the events of the story, they gradually discover that they’re absolutely right for one another. Perfect, in fact.

My colleague says: “That’s “Pride and Prejudice.”
I say: “Exactly! On a good day, I write just like Jane Austen does!” (Except there’s a whole lot more sex!)

How would you answer this question? I’m always looking for new answers. One of these days, I’m going to have to produce a really good one for my granddaughter.

The other day someone asked me: Do you have any rituals you perform when you finish a book?

Rituals? Other than taking a quick count of all the new lines that have carved themselves into my face?

Then I got to thinking–what exactly qualifies as a ritual? I went to dictionary.com for enlightenment, and after scrolling through all the religious related stuff, I found one definition that seemed to apply. A ritual is any practice or pattern of behavior regularly performed in a set manner.

Hmmm. I started thinking harder. What exactly are the patterns of behavior I engage in right after I put the last touches to a manuscript and hit the “send” button that shoots it off to my editor? The fact that I was on the brink of actually finishing a book gave me the perfect opportunity to discover the answer to that question. Like a good investigative reporter, I took notes.

After emerging victorious from a battle with a surprisingly challenging story, one would think that a writer’s practices would be celebratory in nature. And in my ideal fantasy world–which unfortunately exists only in my mind–they are. I can imagine myself performing a happy dance, popping the cork on the champagne bottle that is always waiting for me in my refrigerator, pouring a glass of the bubbly, and then calling friends and family to share the great news. I’ve put the final period on another one! Yaayyy!

But that’s not what happens in Cara Summers’ real life. After I completed my last book (and I suspect all the other ones) my actions all seemed to center on cleaning. Top of the list–I have to face the tornado that has torn through my house. Perhaps when I was writing that last steamy love scene…?

Finding the task a bit daunting, I break it down into a to-do list (which I address in a very random order).
1. Gather up the papers that have found a home on tables, chairs, and every other flat surface including the floor.
2. Disguise (for the benefit of my more ecologically-minded neighbors) the number of trees I’ve killed by recycling the evidence in a nearby apartment building dumpster.
3. Remove anything even remotely resembling penicillin from the refrigerator.
4. Delete the usual 1000+ email messages from my inbox.
5. Try to resusciate all the plants I’ve neglected (and hopefully not killed).
6. Change the sheets on my bed.
7. Use that new (very expensive) moisturizing cream that is absolutely guaranteed to erase every single one of the new lines I’ve acquired by frowning at my computer screen.

The list goes on…and on. But you get the idea. And I’ve figured out exactly why I do all those things. Besides making my house livable again, performing these mindless chores gives my brain cells (the ones I have left) a chance to rejuvenate.

And then I find one more essential thing to do before I start the next book. I recharge my creativity by making what Julia Cameron, author of “The Artist’s Way,” calls an artist’s date. I do something special that has nothing to do with writing. Something that feeds my soul. I may visit a museum or see a live play. This May I did something really special. Joshua Bell, the acclaimed violinist, came to Syracuse, and my daughter-in-law and I attended the performance. It was literally breathtaking. Joshua Bell looks like he’s twelve and plays like an angel. And for his encore he fiddled his way through countless variations of “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” My soul rejoiced,

Now I can start my next Blaze.

Can you think of any rituals you perform after completing a particularly challenging task?

My name is Cara Summers and I’m a Blaze-aholic. I’m addicted to writing Blaze novels–and I don’t think I can stop.

Another confession–this is my first blog, and I wouldn’t have attempted it without Tawny Weber’s patience, enthusiastic encouragement and help! Thanks, Tawny!

Yet another confession–I don’t do Facebook, and I don’t twitter or tweet. I don’t even do my own web site. My excuse for not doing all these things is that I teach writing at Syracuse University, and what time I have left over I have to devote to writing Blazes because—I’m a Blaze-aholic.

Lucky for me, I found enough free time to write my first Blaze. And that took a while. I was writing Temptations when Blaze made its debut in that line. I can still remember the buzz. The first ones I read are still on my “keeper’s shelf.” The books were so popular and selling so well that I remember my editor mentioning to me that the only new authors Temptation was acquiring were writing Blazes. Still, it never occurred to me that Cara Summers could write one. (Sometimes, Cara is a little slow on the up-take!)

Then Harlequin announced the launch of the Blaze line. The loops were full of the news. Lots of Temptation authors were being invited to write for Blaze. I even heard rumors about authors who had refused the invitations because the advances didn’t suit them. My editor mentioned to me in passing that they were looking for authors because they needed more for the line.

So I started thinking about that. Obviously Cara Summers was not a name that shot to the top of the list when one started to think about potential Blaze authors. Perhaps if I’d just been more of a “bad girl” or if I’d only misspent more of my youth? Maybe they didn’t think I could write one? What did I think?

What I thought was that I wanted to write for the Blaze line bcause it offered so many challenges. At that time editors were looking for a “mainstream” feel in the books, and I saw it as an opportunity to grow as a writer. I had always included some kind of intrigue subplot in my Temptations and writing for Blaze would allow me to expand those.

Still, it took me a couple of weeks to build up my courage, but I kept remembering something my mother always advised me to do when I was growing up. “Ask,” she would say. “The worst they can do is say ‘no.’ And they might say, ‘yes.’”

So the next time I talked with my editor, I asked the crucial question:
“Do you think I could write a Blaze?”
Dead silence on the other end of the line.
My stomach went into freefall on my end of the line.
And still the beats of silence continued.
Finally, she said, “You know, I think you could. We don’t have anyone with your voice writing for the line right now. I think you should write a Blaze.”

I wish I could tell you that everything went very smoothly after that. (But Cara’s life never seems to work that way). When I submitted my first completed manuscript, “Intent to Seduce,” my editor called to tell me that I’d written a longer Temptation.
Big stomach sinking sensation again!

But she’s the world’s best editor and she had suggestions, lots of them, and I ended up turning the first kiss scene into a a really hot love scene. That surprised me. And it totally shocked the hero and the heroine. (I just love when that happens to my characters!)

That’s how Cara Summers became a Blaze writer. Writing for the line has met all my expections and then some. And I can’t seem to stop. I don’t want to stop.

So I blame the fact that I’m a Blaze-aholic on my editor and my mom.

Are you lucky enough to have someone in your life who pushes you into asking questions and taking risks?