You have to admire a show about food that contains the previous warning.

Thanks to the magic of Netflix streaming seamlessly to my fabulous MacBook and my lack of a deadline, I’ve been watching a lot of TV episodes with the zeal and power of a network program exec. Sherlock Holmes staring the wonderful late Jeremy Brett. Early seasons of The Tudors and Nip Tuck.

My most recent obsession is Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations. He’s testy, sardonic, likes a good drink (or four) and loves food.

I identify with his witty writing style (demonstrated in the series through voice-overs) and find myself fascinated by the variety of places he visits.

From Japan to Chicago, Venice to Russia. He goes, sees, eats and experiences it all–as long as there’s no tourist shop nearby. He wants to know about the locals, their customs and history.

The Miami episode connected with me as a lifetime Southerner. Why are people who live or were raised above Virginia or west of Tennessee so fascinated with alligators?

If you have ever lived in or spent considerable time in the coastal South, you would be aware that gators are not something you hope to see, or something interesting to point and stare at. They’re something you run from. Fast. While dialing on your cell phone and hoping to reach a big, brave guy named Zeke who’ll come with his even bigger shotgun and shoot the thing.

In fact, the true southerner litmus test is a negative answer to the following question…Have you ever paid to see a gator?

Bourdain, a staunch New Yorker, does–at least indirectly. Though he has the sense to go frog hunting instead of gator hunting. (Brave of him–not just because of the gators lurking in the glades–since the fishing on his show seems to always, hilariously go badly.)

He rolls with it, as he does everything. I’ve seen him eat everything from guinea pigs and raw baby seal eyeball (two separate dishes) to perfectly made baguettes, freshly picked fruit, filet mignon and caviar, plus a few frogs in between. (Oh, did I mention the frog hunting in Miami went so well, they deep fried several dozen?)

As horrified as you might be by the icky (sorry, no other word comes to mind), he reminds his viewers that these proteins are what people around the world have lived on for centuries. What they have to eat to survive. For many of them the supermarket is a concept as foreign and unlikely as Darth Vader sitting down next to you at your local Applebee’s.

What what I really take away from the series is that as different as we are in background, we’re–oddly enough–in the same profession, with the same struggles and obstacles.

While in Vegas–his first, somewhat reluctant trip–Tony’s looking for his Muse as intently as any fiction author ever has. He stares morosely at the computer screen. Types a sentence, leans back, sips beer (I prefer Diet Coke, but to each his own), types another few words, then sighs. Nothing. He picks up his cell phone, hoping somebody, anybody will call and distract him.

Later he’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by sheets of yellow legal paper and notes scribbled on the hotel pads. With nothing apparently making sense and deadline looming, he orders room service–the ENTIRE, freakin’ menu, mind you! (Apparently writing about food provides you with an unlimited food budget.) Full, he’s still struggling when, like a perfectly roasted pig falling out of the sky, a friend calls with a distraction–let’s go out. Tony’s out of that room like a shot from a pistol, and I thought, This guy is a WRITER.

He’s part of the exclusive club that includes people who use words to entertain and the people who like to read–where would any writer be without an audience, after all? I like that he’s somehow merged the medium of TV with the power of clever words, and I like that he distracts me from my own deadlines, even while he reminds me I have the best job in the world. That Muse is a flighty chick sometimes, but when she’s captured she really can make magic.

Hey, all! I’m at the Romance Writers of America conference in Orlando, so I thought I’d report on what I’ve been doing.

The conference is being held at the Swan and Dolphin Resort in Disney World. (This was the backup location after the Opryland Hotel wound up six feet underwater with the terrible spring floods in Nashville.)

Yesterday (Thursday), my roomie–Jacquie D’Alessandro–and I got up and went for a power walk around the lake, then we had breakfast at Kouzzina’s (Iron Chef Cat Cora’s place on the Boardwalk). Yum!

Fueled with eggs and feeling righteous for exercising, we headed to the Harlequin Suite for a social hour with other authors and editors. Jacquie then headed off to the keynote luncheon, featuring bestselling author and total romance goddess Nora Roberts, and I met Harlequin editors Marsha Zinberg, Adrienne Macintosh and Stacy Boyd, plus my fellow NASCAR authors for lunch. With this being the final publication year for the NASCAR books, we did a lot of reminiscing and talking about our future projects. With everyone so busy during the year, it’s nice to catch up with all that’s been going on lately.

From there, I headed back to my room to do a bit of work, then Jacquie and I met with reviewers from The Romance Dish (check out their fabulous site at www.theromancedish.com). The gals were lots of fun–as always–and we were honored with a drive-by chat with Virginia Henley.

Afterwards, Jacquie and I met our other roommate–Jennifer St. Giles aka J.L. Saint for a sushi dinner. Yum again.

Whew! I’m off to bed and looking forward to workshops and hanging out with fellow writers again tomorrow. I’m being awarded with my 25-book pin from Harlequin on Friday night, which is pretty surreal. It’s hard to believe I’ve written that many words! The Blaze Babes gather for lunch on Saturday, so that should be a blast.

Take care,
Wendy

P.S. Sorry to be posting late. I had Internet connection issues at the hotel.

Sorry to be full of negativity today, but I’m cranky. I’m not really a fan of summer anymore.

There was a time that summer was nirvana–no school, sleeping in, relaxed schedule, beach trips and barbecues.

But, at the moment, living in the great state of South Carolina is hell.

It’s been over 100 degrees everyday for nearly two weeks (not counting the humidity, which drives the temp up to 110-115). Last weekend I got into my car to go out of town–at 8:30 am, mind you–and the temp gage read a scorching 86. The dog has taken to napping in a basket in the laundry room–the coolest and darkest place in the house. No fool, he. Even one of my geraniums, which generally love the summer heat, has turned brown and pathetic.

Maybe my skin is thinner than it used to be. Maybe those extra pounds insulate me too well. Maybe there’s something to this global warming crisis. Hmm…

You know summer sucks when you hope for a hurricane just to get some relief from the smothering heat. Clearly, the only sensible solution is lots of air-conditioning, an icy cold drink and a good book.

Read on and stay cool,
Wendy

Memorial Day Weekend is definitely one of my favorites.

Whether my family heads to the pool or the beach, there’s always great food involved–one of my beloved pastimes is cooking. (And eating, of course.) To me, it’s also one of the best race weekends of the year. But I’ll get back to the racing in a minute.

Really, though, the weekend is about freedom.

Freedom to sun your buns or grill them. To play softball with your kids or lay on the sofa and watch movies or sports on TV. For some families, they’ll be free to visit a grave and lay flowers.

And the reason we all have those freedoms is because of our armed forces.

Lincoln referred to the dead of the Civil War as giving “the last full measure of devotion.” As human beings (not just Americans, as all countries have a way of remembering their fallen heroes), it’s natural for us to reflect. To think about the past with pride, and maybe even regret. At no time is that more important than this weekend. As busy as we all are, as unstable as the times seem to be, there are those who fight everyday to make the world a better place. And some won’t live to see the changes they sacrificed for.

Those who served in my family and my husband’s did so in the Army, Navy and Marines. Neither of us lost a loved one to war–for which we’re incredibly grateful. But they still put on their uniform and left their homes and families for far-away places, unsure of the future and praying their dedication would preserve their way of life.

Way back, many generations ago, my ancestor, John Reese (born 1809), fought for the South in the Civil War. Fast forward several generations to my mother’s father, Staff Sergeant Phillip Lankford, who was in the Battle of the Bulge. His commander was killed and my grandaddy was left to command his unit and hold his position, which he did–one of the few instances of this occurring.

I’m also proud to claim and thank Captain and Dr. Clifford P. Phoebus (a physician to the Blue Angels), Lieutenant Preston Phoebus, Jr., Commander Richard Phoebus, SEAL-team member Jim Phoebus, Sergeant First-Class Larry Dunn, Tech-Sergeant Robert Dunn, Major David Etherington, Sergeant Cynthia Etherington, and our most recent veteran, Marine Corps medic and University of Georgia Sophomore Joseph Herring, who served two tours in Iraq, one on the front lines.

By the time you read this, I’ll undoubtably be on my way to Charlotte Motor Speedway for the Coke 600. Besides those attending the race, military personnel all over the world will be honored with a flyover. And though there’s a flyover at every NASCAR event, this one is more solemn and uplifting than any of the others.

As it should be.

Enjoy your freedom this weekend–I know I will. And say thanks to someone who’s served.

Apparently, I’m stuck on the TV kick, since I want to chat about Bravo reality show, The Millionaire Matchmaker. I want to be Patty Stanger in my next life. She’s what I flatteringly refer to as a “broad”. Most of them seem to be from Jersey, but she brings a great Southern California spirit to the species. My favorite line of hers– “The penis does the picking.”

I challenge you…is there a truer statement in the world of romance?

Between balls-of-steel Patty and her excellent, but just-to-the-left-of-center staff–Destin and his mile-high mohawk being my personal favorite–they try desperately to wrangle their wealthy, usually self-absorbed clients, match them with suitable women and send them on dates, which will hopefully lead to monogamous relationships, followed by marriages.

Unfortunately for Patty and the gang, these guys (at least the ones they show on TV) are single for a reason.

I oftentimes give my heroes money. Romance novels are about fantasy to a great degree, after all, so I figure why should money be a struggle? Why shouldn’t the hot guy have a great house, an interesting job and cash to spare?

Most of the guys on this show, however, wouldn’t qualify for hero status. They wouldn’t even rate the semi-cute, wisecracking sidekick in a lot of cases. (Case in point: You HAVE to see Vegas-resident-by-way-of-Chicago entrepreneur Jimmy D and his tendency to talk about himself in the third person. It’s priceless!) Hunt hint: They’re made by babes. Another guy can’t decide between one of two women to take on his big date, so he picks one, gets the other chick’s phone number, then invites her on the date, too.

You can subtitle these episodes as “What Not To Do in Creating a Romance Hero if You Want People to Actually Like Your Story.”

Patty herself would be a great romance novel heroine, though. She’s lovely, direct and doesn’t believe a word these guys say until she sees it for herself. She definitely wouldn’t fall for the crap a lot of the dates do, or accept their lousy, chauvinistic treatment simply because they’re willing to shell out so cash for a limo ride and an expensive dinner.

So here’s to Patty…oh, the stories she could tell.

I’m jumping off the topic of great fiction in book form to talk about TV, specifically a show that’s a genius in casting, character and humor.

Glee.

If you haven’t jumped on the Glee bandwagon, I’m here to grab hold of you and pull you aboard. The writers have done something very clever in that, on the surface, nearly every character in the cast begins as unlikeable.

The episodes follow a high school show choir, and the teenage mantra is–naturally–it’s all about me. (Trust me, I know this. I have two of them.) So the attitude of the young characters is both believable and interesting. In this world, though, the adults act the same way…

The show is a marvel of writing from specifics points of view, as every character acts in his or her’s own self-interest. This happens constantly, every scene, every character. There are sweet moments of sacrifice, but they’re generally few and far between, making them all the more poignant. There are cliches that work. There are despicable–yet hilarious–characters played by Jane Lynch (cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester) and Jessalyn Gilsig (Terri Schuester, wife of the glee club director). There are guest stars–Kristin Chenoweth (Wicked) and Josh Groban (“cute as a buttermilk biscuit”) being the best.

The resulting show is farcical at its core, but also real and powerful and wildly entertaining.

And I haven’t even gotten started on the the music. Broadway, pop, early rap, rock, cheesy-80‘s-that-have-become-classics (hello, Journey!). Plus a male soprano (played by the amazing Chris Colfer) who can believably sing Defying Gravity. It’s hard not to find something you’ll enjoy and possibly even love more than the original.

The single funniest thing I’ve seen in years is the episode where Kurt and supporting female cast perform Beyonce’s All the Single Ladies into his mini cam.

With all the stress and uncertainty in the world today, Glee does exactly what all of us in romance fiction strive to do–create an escape, relish a sweet moment, create the unexpected.

New episodes start April 13th, so you still have time to buy the DVD and catch up to the hilarity.

Hey, all! This is going to be a short one. I have a Blaze due Feb 15th, and my editor is going to be wildly annoyed with me if it’s not on time.

I just wanted to pop in and say how awesome our Blaze babes are. I can occasionally come up with a good title, but I generally suck at them. I put out the SOS to my fellow writers a couple of weeks ago for a title, and they came up with HER PRIVATE TREASURE. Great, yes? (My hero is a lawyer and my heroine is an FBI agent, and they’re trying to solve a jewel robbery/smuggling case—in addition to finding lots of beachy places to have steamy sex.) It’ll be out in September, so be sure to look for it!

And thanks so much to my girls for bailing me out—again. You guys rock!!

As 2009 comes to a close, I’ve spent much-appreciated time with my family over the holidays, and one of the gifts we received from Santa was the 6th Harry Potter DVD (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince). Unless you’ve been living under a literary rock over the last decade, you know this is the movie adaptation of J.K. Rowling’s book of the same name.

I’m a serious student of the HP series. I think Rowling is one of the most talented storytellers of our time. And I’ve read the books so many times, I can easily recite lines, plots, motivations and themes.

It’s the themes I’d like to address. While Harry’s obvious battle of good versus evil doesn’t translate to the average romance novel (hey, not every hero can literally save the world), a theme is critical to a great book. Rowling’s theme is certainly good versus evil, but it’s also (and maybe more importantly so) the power of love. Love as a mother’s sacrifice, a character’s compulsion to defend his or her friends, a hero’s ability to find and return love that’s offered.

Whatever we, as authors, write plot-wise, the real story comes down to theme. What’s the story beneath the tale? What overlying compulsion drives the story? What do these characters really care about, want, need…have to have to survive?

The rest is movements on a chess board.

Rowling, her characters and her message are clear. As readers, we spent years trying to discern her purpose, her goal and endgame. When you complete the series, it’s obvious she stayed true to her story from the first word to the last. That’s theme. That’s what separates good, interesting and entertaining from great and epic. While I have no illusions that I’m the author of epic stories, I’ve learned through much trial and error about the importance in keeping my theme true and clear.

So I, as weird as it seems, have something in common with J.K. Rowling. We’re both storytellers at heart. That theme bonds us, no matter how different the tales we tell.

We writers can’t cure cancer, or bring peace on Earth, but I know many if not all of us think the world is a better place with a few more stories about the power of love.

Hey, all! Hope everybody had a great Thanksgiving!

I just got in from out of town with the in-laws, and I wanted to share my Feb 2010 Blaze cover with you. Awesome, huh? Ah…to be a fly on the wall of the art department at Harlequin—pretty much any day of the week.

God bless those lawmen,
Wendy

The Yamaha and the Nuvo!

Since my peeps are bestselling authors Jacquie D’Alessandro and Jennifer St. Giles, they’re people you know, too. We’re talking about the screenwriting class Jennifer is taking and how it relates to fiction writing (lots more complications!) Mine and Jacquie’s heads are about to spin off.

We’re also cooling off (Yes, I know it’s October, but it was 75 when I pulled into Jacquie’s driveway. Welcome to Halloween in the South!) with this fantastic drink called Nuvo. (see picture) According to Jacquie’s college-age son, this is what all the rappers drink. A pink fizzy cocktail. O-kay. Just one more reason I’m officially old.

Which is why our musical choice is Jacquie’s new Yamaha player piano (with Disklavier—don’t ask, I have no idea what it is either). Her musical tastes veer more toward tunes that were sung on The Lucy Show. (If you don’t know what that is, then you’re too young.) While the songs are lovely, I’ve decided when I have my mid-life crisis I’m getting a Corvette. Jacquie’s husband claims I’ll come out cheaper than buying the piano.

The Nuvo is calling! See ya!
–Wendy