Back at RWA nationals in Orlando, our keynote speaker Jayne Ann Krentz told us to know what our core story is. In other words, what is the story that always seems to appeal to you. It took me a while, but I realized that I just love giving my heroine the choice between two good but very different men. As in, would you choose security with a man who loves you or passion with the man who doesn’t? An easier life as a respectable woman or an exciting life of topsy turvy adrenaline in the moment?

I think it all harks back to my college romance where I had two guys, um…men, who were interested in me. The first was Simon who was a fellow extrovert. Being with him was exciting, passionate, and a huge roller coaster ride of exhausting fun/pain. The other was David who was like coming home to hot chocolate cookies and settling in for a nice night of good television. He was warm and accepting, and I was never more peaceful than when I was with him. In the end, I picked David and have never regretted the choice. But sometimes I wonder if Simon and I could have sustained something lasting. I think not. We were too hot as it was, and after just a couple months the lows were getting bad. Still, it’s fun to remember those hot college nights!

The heroine of my new historical WICKED SURRENDER has just that choice. Respectable marriage with a sweet man. (Well, in his case, he’s really more of a boy). And passion with someone who loves her with a kind of madness, whose touch excites her, and who is not offering marriage.

So tell me what you think! Have you ever faced a choice like this? One lucky commentor will get a Jade Lee book!

A friend of my daughter’s is a rather handsome, very articulate young man. Of any of her friends, he is the one I expect will go far in life. At present, he’s in college and working part time at a major corporation. All very nice, but what follows shows more than anything why he’s an exceptional young man. Honestly, I could not have done what he did. And at the end, tell me a story of your latest adrenaline rush. One lucky commenter will win a copy of Kathy Lyon’s UNDER HIS SPELL.

HERE’S HIS STORY:

I would have preferred to tell this story in person, but it is simply too ridiculous not to share as quickly as possible…

So I’m taking a shower, which is normal for a Saturday morning. And my parents and brothers go to karate practice, which is also normal for a Saturday morning. I get out of the shower — still normal — and try to open the door — still normal — at which point the doorknob in my 90-year-old house falls off — not normal.

I am now alone in the house, trapped in the bathroom.

My family will not return for two hours. I am straight-up, R Kelly-style trapped in the bathroom. I have no phone. I also, for the record, have no Beretta. And there was no singing, although in retrospect there should have been.

The first option is to wait it out. I could take an extra-long shower, Clorox-wipe the entire bathroom, or do the Unspeakable (which honestly couldn’t occupy me for two hours). The second option is to exit through the window. But I wouldn’t be able to get back into the house. So I would be marooned in my hot backyard, wearing my dirty boxers and a towel, waiting for my family to come home. The third option is to escape. I go from R Kelly to MacGyver, amass a collection of potentially useful bathroom items — electric razor, seven toothbrushes, plunger (not sure how exactly that would have helped), hand soap, Q-tips, depleted toothpaste tube — and get to work.

My first plan of attack is to reattach the doorknob, which of course fails. Then, after about fifteen minutes of poking, hitting, jiggling, and otherwise harassing the door with various implements, I discover the fatal flaw of my prison: The door opens inward, but when I push it out, the Little Thing that the doorknob operates that goes into the Little Notch in the door (I don’t know much about door anatomy.) gets pushed back into the door. So all I need to do is block the Little Thing from going into the Little Notch while I yank the door back towards me.

I survey my toothbrush army, and ultimately select two soldiers for the mission: The smallest (one of my brothers’) and the largest (a surprisingly robust free handout from our swanky downtown dentist). I lodge the small toothbrush in the Little Notch, hoping that the Little Thing will slide over it when I pull the door. But without a doorknob, it is very difficult to exert inward force on a door, so I use the large toothbrush to pry into the stump where the doorknob once was and start yanking.

With each toothbrush dangerously close to its breaking point, the door lurches open. A refreshing burst of not hot-sticky-just-took-a-shower air comes over me. Free at last! And it was so freaking fun.

If you really want an adrenaline rush, I encourage you to succeed in escaping from an inconvenient but not dangerous situation using only immediately available household items.

Hoping there will be no Volume 2.

My must-read-NOW pile has gotten out of control.  I’m not talking about my to-be-read pile.  No, we’re ignoring the floor to ceiling stacks (really.  I’m not lying here) of paperbacks found my bedroom, office, and two bathrooms.  Those are books that I picked up because they looked interesting, or someone gave them to me, or I got them at conference for one reason or another.  And I’m definitely not talking about the three boxes of books that I haven’t yet unpacked from the Romantic Times conference last month.  (Or the two more from last year’s RWA).  No, I’m talking about the books that I’m dying to read.  So much so that I start salivating whenever I think about them.

First off, I’m a finalist judge in the RITA awards.  I’m judging the regency era historicals and you can see the list here.  There’s not a book on that list that isn’t good, if not excellent.  I’m enjoying reading them, and I’m not done yet.  They’re due soon, so I must read them now.

Next is Jim Butcher’s Changes  which I bought in hardcover and has been taunting me for a month now.  It’s one of his Dresden books, and I love the series!  I cannot recommend it highly enough.  Love it, love it, love it!  I’ve even bought all the Dresden comics.  But I can’t read it until I finish the RITA books.

Also up there tied with Dresden, is PC and Kristin Cast’s book Burned  which is right now burning a hole into my Kindle until I can read it.  I love the House of Night books, and this is from a woman who really doesn’t get into vampire books.  This is a great series!

Okay, now it’s your turn.  Tell me what you’re dying to read.  It’s okay if it’s not out yet.  Double bonus if it’s one of my books (either by Kathy Lyons or Jade Lee)!  And one lucky commentor will get a copy of my very first Kathy Lyons book, Under His Spell!

  I love conferencing. I’m the rare person who is both a writer and an EXTROVERT! And yes, I’m the kind of extrovert you put in capitol letters. I’m just that loud and (hopefully) that fun. Right now, I’m in Chicago for their Spring Fling conference.  Then starting Monday morning, I’m going to be in Ohio for the Romantic Times Convention.  I love meeting people-fans, booksellers, random people in elevators-they’re all just part of my world wide playground. But that’s me.

What if you’re one of the more typical SHY writers? It’s hard to make the NY connection if you (a) can’t afford a convention, haven’t the time for a convention, and/or ( c) end up staring at your shoes in anxiety. Don’t hear me criticizing you. Some very big NY Times bestsellers still struggle with being shy. They’d much prefer to hang out at home and write.

Well, Harlequin Historical has started a program just for you! Here’s the link: Editor Pitch  It’s for virtual pitches. Yes, you too can connect with an editor without showering or changing out of your jammies! There are specific rules which should be adhered to closely. But prospective HH authors submit a two-paragraph blurb and then must be available to pitch in an on-line chat at the specified time. This is especially cool because Harlequin Historicals is based in England. So any US, Australian, or wherever else writers can connect without an overseas flight.

Okay, it’s now time for you to dish. Tell me your embarrassment woes or lack thereof. I’ll confess that I have indeed been THAT author that followed an editor into the bathroom. But in my defense, we were talking from a workshop and just kept going into the bathroom. Still, looking back, it was really tacky of me.

One lucky commenter will win an Are you a Tigress tee shirt?!

And don’t forget! My Blaze UNDER HIS SPELL is in stores now!

The weirdest thing is happening to me. I’ve never experienced it before, and maybe it’s all in my head, but what can I say? It’s bizarre. And I’m going to share it with you.

It begins like this. I’m judging books for the RITA. I try to every year because I enter every year. Plus it forces me to read books I’d never pick up otherwise. I find it good to expand my reading palate, so to speak, and heck, who doesn’t like free books? I also feel like I’m a good judge, have a good handle on writing technique and market understanding, bladda bladda bladda. So, I picked up one of my RITA books to judge this morning.

I didn’t notice the correlation at first. It took me hours to figure this out-and again, maybe it’s all in my head-but I’m having an immune reaction to this book. Seriously. Every time I pick it up, my nose starts getting congested, I start sneezing, and my head begins to pound. Sure, I’ve read books that have made me feel nauseous and yucky. One of the first books on my judging list was (a) rather gross and really boring when it wasn’t gross. But I like this book. Let me repeat this. I like this book. It’s well written, interesting, and funny. And it makes me sneeze like you wouldn’t believe. I put it down, do some other things, and bam, I feel better. Nose clears up, headache recedes, and I think, okay, quit playing around, time to go back to reading. (Scores are due WAY too soon!) And then half a page in, I’m sneezing and feeling sick again.

WTF???? Fortunately, I’m into energy healing. I have some experience in dealing with the bizarre. So I did a short session on my reaction to this book. No real insights appeared, but I can now go 3-4 pages before I clog up. That’s progress, but not an answer. And I’m really not sure how I’m going to read and judge a 293 page book in 3 page increments. I can see my email to the coordinator now: Sorry I cannot judge this book. It makes me sneeze.

So here’s my question to you. Have any of you ever had an experience like this? Or other weird reaction to a book. What did you do? Best as I can figure, something in my psyche dislikes what I’m reading, but…wow, it’s certainly not in my conscious thoughts. Or am I just loopy?

A miracle has happened to me. Yes, a flat out miracle. I’ve found a diet that WORKS for me. Believe me, no one is more shocked. I’ve been on lots of different diets, most of them somewhat half-hearted. Mostly, my theory has been exercise to death and then eat what you want. That worked for a while until body parts started breaking. Knees, wrist, hip, feet. You name it, I’ve had pain there. And medication.

But the moment I started empty nesting, I began shifting my eating habits. Not out of intention but laziness. Yup. LAZY. That’s me. I hate cooking. Let me restate that. I HATE, DESPISE, DETEST and LOATHE cooking. So, I began eating fruits and vegetables because they required no cooking. My husband is a gem in that he will make a sandwich for himself or happily pick up semi-fast food on his way home. So, if I don’t want to cook, I don’t have to. And guess what? I didn’t want to.

So I began eating what I later learned was called a RAW DIET. All live food. Fruits, nuts, and veggies. And it turns out, it’s one of California’s newest diet crazes. Who knew I was being trendy? I thought I was lazy.

Well, this January I ended up going 100% raw. The reasons for this change are myriad, but it comes down to the energy work I do in my spare time. Everything has a vibrational rate. The higher the rate, the easier energy healing goes. Living foods have the highest rate. Dead foods have low rates. Ergo, eat living/raw food. Plus (added benefit), live foods tend to be alkaline (basic) as opposed to acidic. Diseases including cancer have a hard time living in alkaline environments. Since raw food reduces body acidity, it can have enormous health benefits.

In any event, I went raw. I bought a blender and have a smoothie for breakfast, huge salad at lunch, and whatever I feel like in the evening. Oh, and nuts all day long. (I LOVE NUTS!) I can eat all I want, whenever I want. But I’m not nearly as hungry, and the weight has been coming off. About 2 lbs a week which is a steady, safe pace. Plus, my energy work is better than ever. By a huge margin! Caffeine and dairy were the hardest to give up, but I really haven’t missed them that much.

Here’s my problem. This is supposed to be a LIFE STYLE choice, not a temporary diet. I’m doing fine because I’m sitting at home, writing my newest novel and going no where. Easy to not eat pasta and cheesecake because no one is offering it to me. What do I do when I travel? What about when a friend asks me out to lunch? My good writing reward was usually a lunch out with Elizabeth Hoyt at the end of the week. That’s gone now too. Do I really want to eat salad every day? That’s no fun when there’s chocolate mousse in the offering.

So…my question to you is what have you done when dieting AND dining out? Does the diet go out the window? Or do you typically find a compromise? And what about conferences? A week away on rubber chicken? Forget the diet, that gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it!

One day this holiday, a friend of mine handed me a book she had gotten from the library. It was urban lit with African-American characters and, she confided, it was badly written. “You should be doing these!” she declared. Now, I know that she meant that I was such a good writer, that I could be making millions if only I stepped into this other market. It didn’t matter to her that I’m not African-American and have no understanding of their experience. Nor did she understand that I was doing just fine in the romance market. She simply meant zillions of dollars could be had if only I wrote something else entirely.

I thanked her for her advice, of course, because that’s what polite people do, but inside I was thinking: would you tell a trial attorney that he ought to be in tax accounting because there’s money to be had there? Or perhaps you would suggest to a successful oil painter than he should slide into computer graphics because that’s a big market. Please tell me that this is true! Then I won’t think that writers get the bulk of the well-meaning but clueless advice.

Now if this was a one-time thing, I wouldn’t even be blogging about it. But over the years, I have gotten a few doozies. One of my relatives asked who reads my books. Ignorant secretaries? My mother once firmly told me that I should stop writing that historical romance trash and write real literature like Gone with the Wind. And my uncle, God love him, told me that I should stop writing romance and do something like the movie Sabrina. Oodles of money to be had there.

I know I should be grateful. Honestly, they’re taking an interest in my career and at least making conversation beyond, “Wow, the Bears really suck this year” and “why the hell did you dye your hair red?” I love my relatives and know that they don’t mean to hurt me when they ask, “So when do you plan on making the NY Times list?” (I’ve decided to schedule it in for 2012). I just needed to rant somewhere, so here it is. You’re subjected to it.

Now it’s your turn to share. Surely someone else has gotten well meaning but clueless advice this holiday season! Tell me! Please!

Well, I had to write this post ahead of time because I am, in fact, stuffing my face with my family. But in the off chance that someone who is NOT busy eating reads this blog, I’ve got something to ask.

What is something UNEXPECTED this year for which you are thankful?

Usually, I’m thankful that SOMEONE ELSE is making the food that is so fabulously arrayed before me. Usually, I’m thankful for my family and friends, my recent contracts, my generally wonderful life. Yadda yadda. Okay, so I’m blessed. But this year, something incredibly weird happened.

I’m thankful that I AM able to try and cook something this year. Yes, for my vegetarian daughter I’m going to try and cook a vegetable pot pie. The recipe was in Vegetarian Times to which we subscribe. But…you see, I don’t cook. Well, maybe microwave popcorn, but that’s the extent of it. In fact, I’m becoming something of a raw-ist not because of principle or anything like that. But because I’m too lazy to do more than pull spinach leaves out of a bag. Add some pre-shredded cheese and I’ve got dinner.

So the fact that I’m motivated to try to cook something as elaborate as pot pie…well, that is a shocker indeed. And kudos to whatever urge struck me hard enough to get off my duff and try. So THANK YOU to the mysterious urge. I’ll let you know later if the experiment causes other people to thank me for NOT doing this again next year.

UPDATE: Vegetarian Pot Pie was edible. Barely. Was welcomed to make it again for next year, so long as I’m not hurt when no one eats it. But I tried, so I feel like it was win!