Writing is like...

...riding a bike.

No really. Listen a minute. This makes sense. I came up with this analogy while talking to my daughter who's having trouble coming up with multiple blog posts, writing multiple blog posts, getting motivated, staying motivated, etc.

"Writing is hard!" she tells me.

And I agree. "Writing is damn hard!"

"So how do you do it?" she asks. "How do you write entire books? When does it stop being work?"

"It doesn't," I tell her. I don't want to be depressing, but facts are facts. "Writing...it's like riding a bike."

Because it is, if you think about it. If you do it enough, you get proficient at it--or reasonably so. You get to the point where you don't have to think about things like, "What gear do I want to be in now? How do I change gears? When do I change gears? How do I keep my balance or ride through mud or water or sand? What do I do when I come to an intersection, a crosswalk, a red light, railroad tracks? How do I steer with no hands?"

You still have to do all these things, but you don't have to think so much about "how" to do them. Or when to do them. They become second nature.

Just like writing.

After your third or fourth book, you no longer have to wonder if you can find your way through to the end. You no longer ask yourself things like, "Whose POV do I want to be in now? How do I change POV? When do I change POV?" After your seventh or eighth book, you no longer wonder about where to place chapter breaks or how to segue from one scene to the next. Dialogue tags become second nature. Goal, motivation, conflict--ditto.

But...writing is like riding a bike. You still have to get there. You still have to change those gears, whether you're thinking about them or not. You still have to peddle when you ride up hill. Sometimes, you even have to get off the bike and push it up the hill. There's no magic formula that can get you up that hill other than your own two feet. Yes, it gets easier after you've been doing it awhile. But it still involves work.

Just like writing.

You're always going to have to sit down and make yourself do it. Or stand up and make yourself do it, if you're Hemingway. Or lie down and make yourself do it if you're like any of those authors you're always reading about who wrote their first books while on bed-rest during a difficult pregnancy.

However you're doing it: it's work. Just like riding a bike. But, just like riding a bike, we wouldn't have it any other way. Because the journey is the thing. There's the wind-in-your-hair feeling when you get to an easy part and are just coasting along taking in the scenery. There's the huge sense of accomplishment when you reach your destination.

Getting there--working for it--is part of the fun. Maybe the best part.

*****

A Taste of Honey (Oberon, book 4) out now in print!

Be careful what you wish for...

As far as Lucy and Dan Cavanaugh are concerned, life is a dream come true.  They have it all: The perfect family, the perfect marriage, the perfect home. But their perfect life is suddenly on the line when the runaway daughter of one of Dan’s former girlfriends arrives in Oberon intent on proving Dan is her father. It’s going to take an entire band of angels to help straighten things out this time around. Lucky for them, that’s exactly what’s coming to town.   

Buy it now at Amazon

Summer Movie Mania

 It’s SUMMER MOVIE SEASON!! Are you ready?? Even in Homer, Alaska, where it’s barely 55 degrees and we only have one second-run, one-screen movie theater, we’re getting excited. The theater gets a new movie every couple of weeks, and my husband and I see most of them. We kicked off the summer with Iron Man 3. Two thumbs way up! I always love Robert Downey Jr., but Ben Kingsley was a special surprise treat in this one.  

Tonight we're going to see The Great Gatsby. I’m a huge fan of Baz Luhrmann, not to mention F. Scott Fitzgerald, and the combination should be fascinating.

The next movie coming to town is Star Trek: Into Darkness. I can’t begin to tell how you much my husband is looking forward to this. As for me? Chris Pine? The dude who plays young Spock? Fine, you talked me into it.

I’m also looking forward to, in no particular order:

Man of Steel. I like movies that go back in time to the beginning of a character’s journey.

Much Ado About Nothing. Joss Whedon and Nathan Fillion, reunited! Okay, so it’s Shakespeare not Serenity, but I’ll take it.

The Bling Ring. I think Sofia Coppola is understatedly masterful. 

THE WOLVERINE!!! Hugh Jackman. Enough said. 

World War Z – but only for Brad Pitt. I don’t care for Zombies.

Every summer there’s at least one big huge flop that everyone talks about. So far that would be After Earth. As a fan of Will Smith and M. Night Shyamalan, this pains me. I haven’t seen it, and probably won’t. I’d rather hold onto my illusions. I will always have big love for both of these hugely talented film folks.

So what summer movies have you seen? What are you looking forward to? I’ll cross my fingers that our tiny little theater books them!

Guest Blogger Katriena Knights - Romantic Reunions

Reuniting with a lost love is something many of us have thought about. Whether it was someone you were attached to in your adolescence or someone with whom you had a long-term, serious relationship, it’s inevitable that at some time in you’re life you’ll wonder what could have been, or what could be if you and that lost love found your way to each other again.

My latest release, As If You Never Left Me, from Crimson Romance, explores that idea in more than one way. In the book, Joely must decide if she wants to return to Rey, her almost-ex husband, when he appears in her life again asking for a second chance. If they’re going to make a new start, they must get past the pain and the hurt they inflicted upon each other during their marriage and find the love that drew them together in the first place.

As If You Never Left Me is a new/old book, in that it was originally published several years ago by Ellora’s Cave (I originally wrote it under my pen name, Elizabeth Jewell). So when I decided to submit it to a new publisher, I also had to go back to a story that had already played out and decide if I wanted to revisit that past, those emotions, and the relationship I’d had with that story and those characters. Going back to an old story also often brings up emotions having to do with what was going on in my real life during the time when I originally wrote it. That was also a difficult thing for me. In the end, though, I decided the book deserved another opportunity to be out and about in the world to find new readers who might enjoy this story of rediscovered love.

Katriena Knights is the author of over thirty published novels, short stories and novellas under four names, including Elizabeth Jewell and KC Myers. Her latest novel, As If You Never Left Me, is now available from Crimson Romance. http://www.crimsonromance.com/crimson-romance-ebooks/crimson-romance-book-genres/spicy-romance-novels/as-if-you-never-left-me/ Katriena can also be found at her website at katrienaknights.com, her blog at katrienaknights.blogspot.com, or on Twitter at twitter.com/crazywritinfool

I got nothin'...

It’s my turn to blog and I’ve had a bit of a crazy weekend which started Thursday night and I’ve got nothing brilliant to blog about  - so y’all are going to hear about my weekend. :)

The best part of the weekend was the paramedics. Now, I’m not trying to make light of a serious situation (or maybe I am – in my family we cope with terrible things with (sometimes very black) humour. Like at my dad’s funeral, we all started giggling when the minister kept messing up my dad’s name. We figured my dad was up there somewhere (maybe down there) fucking with us.

And in any case, this didn’t turn to be *that* serious.

Thursday afternoon around 5:30 I got a call from home care, who go in twice a day to help my old auntie who now lives alone, with her medications. The girl said Auntie wasn’t doing well, was confused, couldn’t get up out of her chair, and refused to let her call an ambulance. So she called me. I went over. Yup, she couldn’t get out of the chair. When I asked her she snapped, “Yes I can.” But when I asked her to get up, she didn’t move (FYI she is a crusty old lady). When she told us “I was looking for…Grant’s…chicken…” I was concerned. Grant is my dad (her brother) and he’s been gone for over 35 years. Okay! Time to call the paramedics!

They…were…awesome.

On the phone, they told me, “Gather up her medications, put away family pets, lock the back door and meet them at the front door.” I gathered up her medications (easy, they’re in a bubble pack) locked the back door and started a chase for her dogs. Now I’m a dog lover, but don’t tell auntie-- I hate her dogs – they are not trained and they pee and poop all over the house. I snagged one of the little Yorkies from hell and was chasing the other one when the paramedics arrived, maybe five minutes after I called.

They drove up in a fire truck and ambulance with lights and sirens -  eeep. Might have been a little overkill. Oh well. They all trooped in, three women and four guys, and OMG all four guys were seriously HOT! I couldn’t help but notice this even as I tried to answer all their many questions. The young cute guy started chatting up my 23 year old daughter. :) They were smart too — young cute guy even said it could be a UTI as they can cause confusion, and that’s what it turned out to be.

Went to the hospital, waited a couple of hours, spoke to the doctor who admitted her (and no lie, his name was Dr. Seuss – Auntie was not impressed by this). She was very dehydrated and weak and pissed off at me for putting her in the hospital. But the next day she was already better and with it.

Spent the rest of the weekend, going to her place, finding someone to look after the Yorkies from hell, phoning friends, neighbours, relatives to tell them what was going on, cleaning up dog pee and poop, doing dishes and throwing out moldy food, watering plants, taking stuff to the hospital she needed and visiting my other auntie who’s in a personal care home.

How was your weekend? :)

Winners for Day Three

Our winners for the third day of our Sultry Summer Nights celebration are: Sue G. and Fedora Chen. Congratulations to you both!

Sultry Summer Nights ~ Day Three

Today's the final day of our Sultry Summer Nights celebration. We hope you've been enjoying these glimpses into Nine Nights in New Orleans--nine short stories inspired by New Orleans--and the pictures we've each chosen to go with them.

Our winners from yesterday are Connie Caputo-Thomas and Shawn Herpy Metzler. Congratulations to you both! 

Just a reminder, there's still time to win! Comment below or comment on like us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/the9NN for a chance to win! Or why not all three?

But even if you don't win, don't worry! You can still read these nine steamy stories by picking up a copy at either Amazon or All Romance ebooks

No Last Calls by Kinsey Holley

Eric Balfour is one of those guys who can look hot in some pictures, awful in others. He has an adorable personality, however, and I love him on Haven, and I had him in my head when I wrote NLC.

 “Hang on. I gotta go see what those dumbasses are doing now. Fuck hell!” he called down the bar as he walked away. “Are y’all new here or what?”

She smiled as Ethan yelled at his two employees. He didn’t sound completely serious, and he was seriously cute. She liked tall guys. He was long and lean, with muscles, but not too many.

Naturally she’d just spent the past three years of her life with a guy who expended many of his scant off-hours at the gym. Ryan was proud and fond of his pecs and biceps; he was in good shape because he worked out all the time and ate very carefully, but he didn’t exactly have an active lifestyle. Office, gym, a bar a couple times a month. That was it.

Ethan looked like he probably did a lot of physical labor.

The first two buttons of his white button-down shirt were open. As he moved, she glimpsed the edges of a tattoo.

Ryan had a tattoo on his butt. Which totally which didn’t count.

Ethan picked that moment to change out a CO2 tank beneath the beer taps. She enjoyed watching his biceps as they flexed and contracted. They weren’t bulky, not muscle-magazine-cover size. Just firm and smooth and fun to look at. He was fun to look at.

Hello, libido. Where the hell have you been?

 okssi68 / 123RF Stock Photo

No One Drinks Alone by Kelly Jamieson

Bourbon Street in New Orleans – the perfect place for a fun little flirtation with a sexy stranger. When Kady gets separated from her girlfriends in the crowd, Cam is there to help out. Together they explore magick, exotic dancing and bourbon, eventually ending up in an elegant hotel room. Sex with a stranger...forbidden, risky and oh so hot...does Kady really want to do this?

  
 “This is a cool place,” he said, picking up a small red pouch. He read the label. “‘A powerful magickal talisman for drawing love to you.’”
     Kady smirked. “Looking for love, are you?”
     He met her eyes. “Maybe.”
     She shivered.
     The young man behind the counter spoke up. “That’s a very potent combination of ingredients,” he said seriously. “Excellent for seduction.”
     More heat centered low in Kady’s body and she pressed her lips together and glanced at the thin, sandy-haired kid.
     “Gris Gris bags must always have an odd number of items,” he continued. “The bag comes with an even number and you add your own personal item. You also get a bottle of love potion to dress the charm.”
     “What kind of personal item?” Cam asked.
     The guy shrugged a narrow shoulder. “A hair, nail clipping, a photo.”
     Cam nodded and although his mouth was set in a solemn line, Kady hid a smile at the laughter lurking in his eyes. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of bills, peeling off a couple to pay for the Gris Gris.
     “Give me one of your hairs,” Cam said, once they were standing outside the shop.
     “No way!”
     Smiling, he moved closer to her, close enough that she could smell his aftershave, something clean and faintly citrusy. “Do you believe in magick?” he murmured.
     She licked her bottom lip. Maybe. “No.”

 Sax On a Stick by Kate Davies 

Breaux ran a few scales on his alto, tossing in some arpeggios and a triplet or two. Starting soft and growing loud, then heading the other direction, he made that baby growl and moan as he worked through his warm up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw The Businessman shift in his chair, angling his body so he had a better view.

Yeah, he was watching.

Breaux smiled around his mouthpiece. If the man wanted to watch, he was damn well going to put on a show.

Sultry Summer Nights ~ Day Two

Welcome to day two of our Sultry Summer Nights celebration  in honor of Nine Nights in New Orleans--our collection of short stories based in New Orleans. Pick up your copy at either Amazon or All Romance ebooks or comment below or on Facebook (yes, "likes" count, but we really hope you'll leave a comment) at: https://www.facebook.com/the9NN for a chance to win!

Our winners from yesterday are Christine (lacombejc@suddenlink.net) and  Jane Lavigne Congratulations and good luck to today's entrants!

Although we came up with the idea for this anthology while we were together in New Orleans, and we brainstormed titles to some degree we didn't really discuss our stories with each other very much until they were more or less done. So any random similarities (and there were several) are purely serendipitous.

Here are excerpts from our next three stories...


Ghost of a Chance by Sydney Somers 

“What was that?”

She heard the smile in his voice, but it only stoked the anger brewing inside her. The unexpected emotion eroded the shock at finding herself face to face with the man who broke her heart.

“I stopped by your room, but you weren’t there.”

Her head snapped up. “You knew I was here?”

He nodded, carrying the broken plate to the garbage can. “I never thought you’d actually come. Figured you’d cancel once you knew…” he trailed off, his brows drawing together. “You didn’t know, did you?” He stopped opposite her.

“You arranged this?” He’d left messages before, though not for a few weeks, but she wouldn’t have imagined he’d pull something like this.

Sam’s hand closed around hers, and her eyes nearly slid shut at the tingling warmth that spread across her skin.

Then she remembered how mad she was, how devastated she’d been.

“So no one gets hurt.” That heartbreaking smile was back in his voice, and she glanced at the hand that gently pried the largest chunk of broken glass from her fingers, then meet his eyes.

He set the glass on the counter, then took the bottle of wine from her as well. “I’d rather not play the odds.”

“Thinking about hiding the knives too?”

He shrugged. “Frying pans are closer. I’m assuming you’d go for those first.”

Laissex le Bons Temps Rouler by Juniper Bell

There he was, the devil who’d been ruining her set. He stood with legs apart, hands gripping a saxophone, lips wrapped around the mouthpiece. At least he wasn’t singing at the moment, but his sax playing was just as bad. The man had no technique whatsoever. He just threw notes out there as if they were cheap Mardi Gras beads. Fast and raw, the notes scampered up and down the scale. The dancing crowd gyrated right along with the madman, faster and faster, as if they’d all die if they stopped – or even slowed down.

Then he pulled the sax out of his mouth and yanked the mike to his lips. And Arrietta came close to fainting. The man was … what were the right words? He was like some kind of god -- the pagan kind. He had black hair, thick as blackstrap molasses, with a shiver of black stubble on his jaw. His eyes glittered like midnight swamp water, like alligators sidling alongside bayou skiffs, like wild Southern belles throwing tossing up their skirts on a hot summer night. Every naughty thought, every dangerous, spontaneous impulse gleamed in those eyes. And every woman in the place knew it.

No Beignet Left Behind by Erin Nicholas 

On first glance, she didn’t seem that different from all the other beauties of the ball, but there was something about how curls were escaping her updo, and the streak of dust on the hem of the dress, and most especially the way she was wrapping a beignet in a paper napkin—and putting it in her purse—that made it impossible for him to look away. When she added a second beignet, he was intrigued.  When her purse wouldn’t zip completely shut over the contents, he was smitten.