Naked Fridays!

I'll keep this short but not sweet: I'm over at The Naked Character today, talking about why I love writing kick-ass female heroines. Drop by if you get the chance!

And have a fantastic weekend.

PS - I'm having some issues replying to comments over there right now, but I do read and appreciate each one. :)

Shepherd's Pie, Cocktails and Lingerie

Greetings, fair Bloggites! I'm still in the throes of editing (yes, still. Yes, this is round, like, five bazillion) and being brain dead, I reached out to Twitter to give me some blog idea joy. And -- Twitter being full of being evil people -- this is what they've come back with. So I've found a way to work such disparate elements into a little ditty for your reading pleasure (or not).

Shepherd's Pie, Cocktails and Lingerie

I lean over the hot oven, splatters from the mince creating oily splotches on the pristine pages of my cookbook. Sweat beads on my brow and I wipe it away before it joins the oil slicks. Who the hell asks for shepherd's pie in July? Surely not shepherds -- they're too busy sleeping off the heat under a tree somewhere. No, the only person daft enough to request such a thing is Gregory. My ex. My sodding, silly ex who dumped me last year, and who now has the temerity to invite himself over and ask for bloody shepherd's pie!

So that's what I'm cooking. Yes, I know it's pathetic. But if I said no, he'd think I'm not over him yet. And if I don't make the dish he asked for, he'd figure I'm spiteful, right? I should also mention I'm wearing my best lingerie: a dusky pink satin balcony bra and skimpy matching knickers. Why? Well, the sauciest action these poor items have seen is when I ripped off the sales tags. And I have to make an effort, to show Gregory I've not let myself go.

I throw in a handful of carrots and take a big swig of my vodka tonic. Already things are slightly hazy, but drinking will just take off the edge of all those awkward 'so-hey-how-are-you moments' we're sure to have. I haven't seen Greg since he stuck me with the bill at Pizza Express after smugly proclaiming he was heading to Peru to 'find himself'. I hope he found some more hair, since he'd just started balding and that combing-forward tactic so wasn't working for him.

Oh! Here he is! A bit early, but maybe he can help make the food . . . okay, not likely. God, is that the buzzer again? Looks like he hasn't found any patience. Do I really need to let him in? Do I even want to? I gulp back my drink, listening to the insistent buzzes and watching the beef sizzle in front of me.

Bloody Gregory. He can ring my bell all he wants, but he's not getting my pie!

(Euphemism intended.)

Those Bl**dy Americans!

Ha! Bet that title caught your eye!

There's been a lot of uproar recently over an article on the BBC website blaming Americans for sullying Brit-speak with outrageous words like 'elevator' (instead of 'lift') and 'apartment' (instead of 'flat').

Horror of horrors! Language purists, take cover!

Having taught for a couple years in a British comprehensive school, though, I think Brits should be more concerned with corruption from within. Um... the word 'chav', anyone? The wonderful gem that is 'innit'? Or how about the fact that my GCSE (high school) students struggled to even write two sentences without lapsing into text-speak?

So, yes: beware the foreign invasion. But perhaps worry about your own population first!

What are your most-hated slang words creeping into regular usage?

(Disclaimer: This post was written by a North American. Any opinions expressed are those of a North American who fully admits to using dastardly American words such as elevator and apartment. Oh yes, and I'm also a British citizen! *mwah ha ha!* )

Most Annoying Office Habits

Happy Friday! Today I'm delighted to feature author Lisa Lim. But before I get to that, if anyone is the UK and is interested in writing short stories, please check out Helen Hunt's upcoming course on July 30th. Helen is fab and she's a super-successful short-story author -- and there are still a few spaces left!

Right, over to Lisa:

A colleague of mine (let’s call her Janet) clips her fingernails at work. I’ll be conversing with a customer, and in the background I’ll hear the maddening Clip Clip Clip Clip sounds resonating in my ears, sounding very much like Japanese water torture.

Then Janet will sand her nails with vigor, causing a plume of nail dust to settle on my desk. Next she’ll whip out ten bottles of nail polish and perform a mani and pedi, and thus fumigating the entire office.

I personally would never floss, pick my nose, use Q-tips or cotton swabs, pop my blackheads or shave my pits at work. That is why it is called personal hygiene.

Care to share your office gripes? Or are you guilty of perpetrating these crimes?

To quote Moliere ~ “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.” So ehrmm . . . *COUGH*. . . if you’d like to check out the works of this whore, my chick lit novel Confessions of a Call Center Gal (it’s Bridget Jones meets The Office) is available on paperback and Kindle on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. If you find politically incorrect shows like The Office, South Park and Chelsea Lately detestable, childish and offensive, then this book is probably NOT for you.

Thank you, Lisa!

The Cave Woman Cometh

I'm out of the cave! This round of edits has been sent off to my editor and I'll have a brief respite before the next lot roll in. Still, I'm glad for the break -- this novel has been one of the hardest to get my head around.

Why? Because initially, my main character's motivation didn't jive with her personality. Once I sorted out what would propel her through the crazy events that followed, everything fell into place much better. Phew. More work needs to be done but for now . . . I'm going to kick back, relax and get back to blogging!

And this afternoon, I'm going to lunch in Notting Hill and then spend the evening with Mr TR and my lovely step-daughter. The perfect way to end what can only be described as a month-long slog.

So please have some virtual champers, Twizzlers and chocolate! Wheeeeeee!

Bedroom Moves

Happy Monday! Yay, I'm still editing (can you hear the joy in my voice? Can you? CAN YOU?). But good news, I'm going to be done this round on Wednesday. Phew -- I almost want to kill off my main character and just be done with the whole thing!

Anyway, I've been a bit of a bad bloggery blogging blogger lately but hand on weary heart, I promise I'll be better soon. And since the little video thingy I was planning to post doesn't seem to be working, well, I leave you with this snippet from a recent conversation with Mr TR.

6 a.m., in bed:

Me: *click click click on my smartphone*

Mr TR (grumpily): What the hell are you doing?

Me: Nothing!

Mr TR: Put the phone away and go back to sleep.

Me: Just let me check my Amazon sales rank...

Ah yes, the glamorous life of a writer...

Get Your Chick Lit On! Guest Post by Liz Fichera

It's Friday! And guess what? I'm still editing. Oh yes. I've been in a deep dark cave for almost a month now, but I'm pleased that I may finally be emerging shortly. In the meantime, I'd like to thank all the wonderful authors I've had on my blog recently for pulling me through. And wine. And well... wine.

And today, I'm extra pleased to have Liz Fichera here, author of the upcoming novel Craving Perfect. It's a delightful read, and you can see my review here. Take it away, Liz!

It's always perplexed me why books written by women authors about family and relationships are often classified as chick lit while books written by men on the same topics often get literary fiction status. Additionally, literary fiction is sometimes described as character-focused while genre fiction is more plot-based. Not sure I buy that distinction either because I’ve read chick lit that is both plot-based and character-driven. Never mind the negative connotation of the label itself and the fact that books other than literary fiction are not reviewed in mainstream publications as widely, but I suppose that’s a topic for another day. Fair or not. It is what it is.

And you have to wonder if tags like chick lit were used to label books in the 19^th century whether novels like Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre would still be considered classics today. Cut to present day and we all know that authors like Jennifer Weiner, Sophie Kinsella and Emily Giffin sell boatloads of books that can be classified in this genre. Clearly readers want these stories, when you see how they fly off the shelves whenever there’s a new release. In fact, readers demand them. Perhaps that’s why you see so many women of a certain age flocking to the Young Adult shelves today. We all know that it’s just not teenagers reading young adult novels anymore.

So, can you blame them?

Who doesn’t want to escape for a little while inside a great story and imagine those “what ifs”? For my tastes, a story has to press my emotional buttons to get me truly engaged and I can usually find that in chick lit. So call it chick lit. Call it lit chick. Call it x@3XB 8Lu. I don’t care! Just make these stories available. Boatloads of them.

So what’s your take? Do you care about labels when you purchase your books? Or are you more interested in the story?

About Liz:

Liz is an author from the American Southwest. She writes commercial fiction and young adult novels but mostly she writes stories about ordinary people who do extraordinary things. Her latest novel CRAVING PERFECT has been called chick lit, contemporary romance, and even contemporary romance fantasy. It releases on July 25 from Carina Press. She is also the author of CAPTIVE SPIRIT (2010) and HOOKED (Harlequin Teen, 2013). Don't hesitate to drop by her web site or blog to connect.

If Polygamy Was Legal... I'd Be Marrying Cade

It’s launch day for the lovely Sally Clements’ new book, Marrying Cade, and to celebrate, she’d having a Mexican wave of excerpts! (For those you not familiar with the 'Mexican wave' -- I admit, the term did throw me when I first moved here -- it's just like a wave you start at ball games and such.) You can keep up with the wave’s progress on the twitter hashtag #MarryingCadeWave – and add a tweet with the hashtag to chat with everyone else who’s reading along.

I'm halfway through Marrying Cade and phwoar, it's a great steamy read. Sally's done a brilliant job evoking the feeling of an Italian island and I really feel like I'm there when I'm reading.

To follow along, just call in to these blogs to read each excerpt (they start at stop one, and finish at stop ten). Alternatively, start wherever, and click on the next stop link at the bottom of the excerpt. Or just click on the buy link to get your own copy of Marrying Cade!

Stop Two – Maya Blake’s blog

Stop Three – Nas Dean’s blog

Stop Four – Joanne Coles’s blog

Stop Five – Romy Summers’ blog

Stop Six – Lorraine Wilson’s blog

Stop Seven – Joanne Pibworth’s blog

Stop Eight – Suzanne Jones’ blog

Stop Nine – Lacey Devlin’s blog

Stop Ten – Sally Clements’ blog

Stop One excerpt…

Chapter One

The last thing Cade West felt like doing was mingling with a bunch of bright young party guests. His eyes stung at the unaccustomed Tuscan sunlight, and his body ached from contorting his long frame into a plane seat. The irony of hating long distance flights wasn’t lost on him. After all, he spent most of his life jetting between hotels. But he wasn’t made for an airline seat. Even a first class one.

This week was going to be all about love and happy-ever-afters. A forced break from his regular routine which, if he were honest, he could well do with. He was exhausted after the tedious routine of back-to-back meetings, and on-site consultations. People thought his life as owner of The West Group was glamorous, but the day to day reality was anything but. His managers were paid way over the odds; they could handle things for a couple of weeks. For the first time in over a year he was on holiday.

“They’re sending a car.”

Cade cracked open a sleep-weighted eyelid. “Great.”

His best friend Adam was getting married. Moving to Isola dei Fiori, working for his father-in-law, and putting his life and hope of happiness in Rosa Bellucci’s hands. There wasn’t a woman alive Cade would change his life for. Getting married meant staying in one place, settling down, putting down roots. He’d had roots once, snaking through the earth of his native Texas, gripping firmly in the land that had been his family’s for generations. Cade rubbed the side of his face with the back of his knuckles. No point going there.

Get your own copy here: Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, The Wild Rose Press

Before you go on to stop two, do click the tweet button below to help get the wave going! Now, continue on to Stop Two, here!

Romantic Novelists' Conference... In Shoes

I'm back! Hope everyone had a great week. I managed to get a lot of editing done, and while I'm not quite finished, it's getting there. Slowly.

But! Last weekend, I had the great pleasure of attending the Romantic Novelists' Association Conference in Caerleon, Wales. My first conference last year in Greenwich was a blast and I was super keen to get out of the house and drink. (Did I mention I've been editing?) And if you're looking for drink, there's really no better place then a romantic novelists' convention. Compared to many there, I'm a lightweight. I can only aspire to such imbibing greatness.

Apart from drinking wine, the women of the RNA are also famous for shoes. Since, at heart, I'm basically a very shallow and materialistic individual, I thought I would summarise my conference experience in shoes.

Friday morning, I braved the rains and boarded a train from Paddington to Newport Wales wearing the shoes above. Practical for training, and good for puddle-jumping. Lord only knew what I'd encounter in the Welsh wilds. Although the sky cleared around Bristol, as we zipped under the Severn and emerged in Wales, the skies opened yet again and rain poured. No matter -- a nice lunch at a golf course with a friend (who twisted my arm to indulge in a large Pinot) and several attempts to convince the waiter to purchase a Kindle, and the weekend was off to a flying start.

Conference shoes must be high-heeled and ultimately quite uncomfortable, and these high heels certainly filled that role! After checking in and getting settled in my dorm, I scurried over to register, feeling slightly anxious I wouldn't see anyone I knew.

I needn't have worried! Instantly I spotted people I knew from Twitter, Facebook, the last conference... I'd forgotten how lovely and friendly everyone is. It was amazing to see so many friends again and meet some people for the first time. I didn't even feel the pain in my feet! Copious amount of wine were downed that night at the bar and the chatter and laughing continued.

With my feet smarting from the night before, I was only too happy to don this pair of relatively low-heeled shoes for Saturday and Sunday. Despite my slight hangover and zombie-like appearance, Saturday passed in a blur of fantastic sessions and speakers. One of the things I love about the RNA is that no matter how successful and experienced authors are, they always take the time to interact with aspiring writers and those just starting out in their publishing career, like me. Jill Mansell, Elizabeth Chadwick, Katie Fforde and many more were all present and so giving of their time and advice.

Party time! Yes, the time had come to don my lovingly purchased turquoise frock, slide my feet into these killer shoes (in more ways than one) and drink as much wine as I could. It's safe to say a good time was had by all, except my liver, which is still in recovery and sleeping off the effects. The Gala was fabulous and everyone scrubbed up very nicely. I was particularly chuffed to have a lovely late-night conversation with the fabulous and talented Miranda Dickinson and Ruth Saberton, despite the fact that I was practically swaying on my feet and almost slobbered all over them in my delight.

Sunday afternoon rolled around far too quickly and I hopped (well, stumbled) on board the train back to reality. Another fantastic conference, and if you live in the UK -- or even if you don't! -- and you write romantic fiction, you really couldn't do better than to join the RNA. It's one of the best writing moves I've ever made!

A big shout-out to Ruth Long, Jane Lovering, Kate Johnson and many others for making the weekend so fab. Oh yes, and Jan Jones and Roger Sanderson for being organisers extraordinaire.

You Say Hello, and I Say... Wine

Monday's in the house. Woooo!

(Yes, that's forced excitement on my part).

First of all, happy fourth of July to my American friends! Hope you're enjoying fireworks, BBQs and FUN! My weekend was full of Wimbledon, strawberries and cream and editing. I'm pushing feverishly through revisions of Willow and with the Romantic Novelists' Association conference in Wales at the end of the week (yay!), I'm going to take a week's blogcation. I'll be back a week from today with tales of wine, wine and more wine. Oh, and maybe wine.

Until then, have a good one, everyone!

Screams and Beat-Up Trampolines: Tonya Kappes' Writing Process

Happy Canada Day! Please help yourself to yummy maple syrup, tourtiere, poutine and . . . um . . . Screech.

Today, I'd like to welcome guest blogger Tonya Kappes! Tonya is the author of the wonderful Carpe Bead'em and The Ladybug Jinx. Take it away, Tonya.

“Good morning. Your coffee is ready.” My dear husband bends down and kisses my forehead before he heads out for work. “Have a great writing day.”

I roll over and lazily look out the window over the lush Kentucky bluegrass meadow outside. The birds are singing, I see a few deer nipping at the berry trees, and the reality sets in….

“Hurry up. The kids’ lunches need to be made. I’m late,” my dear sweet husband screams, waking me from my wonderful dream.

I shield my eyes from the sun blasting through the window, and look out to see my dog having a barking match with the neighbor’s dog, bikes thrown down, and balls all over the yard, not to mention a beat-up trampoline.

Before I get my foot on the floor, one of my four teenage boys run into the room needing a shirt ironed before school, and another one dangling a squeezed up tube of toothpaste in the air because I forgot to get some at the grocery store.

Now my real day can begins…

I wish I could say I go to my office with a cup of coffee in hand and read and respond to my emails, blog, check Facebook, Twitter, and the other social networking sites.

I don’t. I send my teenage boys off to school and get ready for the day job that I have in order to pay the bills. I go to said day job, come home, take boys to various extra-curricular activities, and then my writing begins.

Sleep? What’s that? I drink over TWO pots of coffee a day!

When Talli asked me about my writing process, I thought I was going to choke on my coffee. What writing process? The more I thought about it, the more I realized I do have a writing process. It’s just not a traditional process.

Some writing days are better than other. But I do write everyday and usually 2k words, I just take it with me. I wrote my first book under a tree during my son’s football practice.

My writing process begins with an idea, characters and I let them live in my world, in my head. I keep a writing journal with me (even at ballgames, honor clubs!). The story comes to life and I write. I write in school car line while waiting for my kids, the veterinarian’s office, grocery store line, church (yes! God wants me to be successful and make people happy with my words.), I don’t plot, or create really cool color coated charts. I just write. Generally by the end of the day, there are over 2k words that I have to put in my laptop…sleep? What’s that?

Seriously though, if someone really wants to be a writer, you make time for it. And even though my writing process is different, it works for me. In six years, all my boys will be out the door, and then I’ll have that dream of waking up looking out at the Kentucky bluegrass.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Mr TR Says...

Working at home every day, it's easy to become oblivious to my surroundings. As such, it's always a quite a treat when Mr TR makes his grand re-entry late-afternoon. Here's a few select utterances from the man himself:

1. Have you noticed how many coffee cups are on your desk? (I have a habit of collecting them.)

2. Did you realise you have the window wide open and it's been raining onto our leather sofa? (Oops. So that's what that dark patch is -- a water stain!)

3. Why is there bread burning in the toaster? (Because our toaster sucks?)

4. You've got chocolate on your face. (Goes without saying.)

5. Maybe it's time to plug in your mobile... it keeps beeping. (I know; I've been ignoring it all day.)

6. You do realise there's a big spider on the wall behind you, right? (Yes. I'm too lazy to kill it.)

What do you ignore when you're writing? Besides the obvious, that is (housework, kids, etc).

Full Exposure

Just to manage your expectations -- I'm not going to flash you from underneath my mac. So sorry. Maybe next time!

No, today I want to talk about the feeling of being exposed. Whether you're sending your first draft to beta readers or you're a published author putting a finished product into the world, you're still offering up a piece of work for judgement. And you can't help feeling that, by default, people are judging you.

It's hard to keep your distance when you've poured yourself into a novel. But I think it's important to remember that readers aren't commenting on you. You might be a great writer -- the next Dickens, even -- and still have readers who don't warm to your creations. Not everything you write will appeal to everyone. And it probably shouldn't!

So wrap yourself up in a hard, deflective metal (um... is there a name for that?), or gird your loins with Teflon, and remember: it's not all about you. It's about your novel. It still might not be fun to take, but I promise you: it will be easier!

How good are you at dealing with less than complimentary feedback?

Telly Time

It's Friday. How that happened, I don't know. Could it have been the blur of cocktails and glorious puddings that hastened the week's end?

I was supposed to have a guest blogger but they seem to have vanished into the ether. So today, I thought it'd be interesting to present a snapshot of telly time! I might be the only one, but I always find adverts from around the world really interesting. It's like a sneak pick into a different culture.

So please bear with me while I snap on the telly and wait for the next commercial break. Oh, while I'm waiting, I'll announce the winners of Catherine Ryan Howard's Self-Printed.

Hard copy goes to... India Drummond! Whee!

Ebook goes to... Janice Horton!

Another ebook copy goes to... Lani Wendt Young!

Congrats, ladies!

Right, here we go with the adverts (yes, this is what my blog has come to today).

Jonathon Ross hosts Penn and Teller: Fool Us! I admit I did like Jonathan Ross until he got together with Russel Brand and started behaving like a five-year-old. Think I'll take a miss on this one.

Butlins Happy Days. I'm not quite sure how to explain the concept of a holiday camp. It's a uniquely British thing where loads of parents bring their kids and eat fried food in the rain. Butlins has a chain of holiday camps and I can't help but snigger at the name!

DFS Sofa Half-Price Sale. Ever since I moved to the UK seven years ago, DFS has been having half-price sales. It's a wonder they're still in business.

Homebase. This is a DIY store that I'm quite fond of after they gave me and Mr TR a water-heater timer for free when they couldn't find the price. Score!

Evian, the official water of Wimbledon. I reckon Wimbledon doesn't need any more water this week after all the rain!

There you have it. Welcome to my advert world! Have a great weekend, everyone.

Here in Spirits

I'm not actually here! I'm over at Nas Dean's blog, talking about how much I love Friends. Until tomorrow, here are a few photos for you from yesterday's jaunts.

Massive thanks to Cat from HarperCollins and authors Fanny Blake and David Nobbs for making the day so wonderful.

See you tomorrow!

Self-Publishing the Not-Saying-Gatekeepers Way

Wooo, it's Wednesday! I've got a big day ahead: lunch in Covent Garden, afternoon tea at the Oxo Tower on the South Bank, and then a book launch at the Tower of London. Please send my be-sandalled feet your most positive vibes to make it through relatively unscathed.

Since I'm about and about, I'm delighted to welcome Catherine Ryan Howard to the blog. If you're contemplating self-publishing and you haven't been over to her blog, you need to get there right now!

Just a small announcement before I go: from now until Monday, my publisher has reduced The Hating Game on Kindle to 98p ($1.59 US). Yay for summer sales! If you need something for the beach, well... you know what I'm sayin'.

Right, over to Catherine!

Five years ago this summer, I moved from Ireland to Orlando, Florida, to start an eighteen-month training program in a Walt Disney World hotel.

Four years ago I started writing a book about it, and three years ago I finished it.

Two years ago I realised that thanks to the spectacularly niche audience for a book about an Irish girl working in Disney World, Space Shuttle launches and the challenges of long, thick hair in near 100% humidity, it was never going to get published, so eighteen months ago, I decided to do it myself.

It sounds a whole lot simpler than it actually was. Because truth be told, I was a certifiable self-publishing snob who thought that publishing your own book was nothing but a pointless and shameful pastime indulged in only by deluded losers...

I had never been traditionally published, but I was a self-proclaimed expert on the publishing world. For nearly ten years or ever since I turned 18, I’d been daydreaming non-stop about a six-figure deal and a well paid job you could do in your pyjamas, faithfully buying a new edition of The Writers and Artists Yearbook every year. This took pride of place in my (frighteningly) extensive collection of How To Write Books books: despite having never actually written a book, I knew exactly how to write a good query letter, create an elevator pitch and decipher a publishing contract. And as for formatting a manuscript – well, that would be my specialist subject should I ever end up on Mastermind. I signed myself up for workshops, sidled up to - gasp! - Real Life Writers at signings and other events and practised perfecting my pseudonym signature, just in case. I drew up a wish list of five literary agents and jotted down some notes about what questions I’d ask them when they called to offer me representation. (Because that’s what the books said: Don’t forget to ask them questions too. Makes you look professional.)

Clearly it was only a matter of time before I got published. All I had to do was write a book.

My expert and utterly unnecessary knowledge of the publishing world meant that whenever I heard of people self-publishing, I rolled my eyes so much that my pupils threatened to disappear forever into my head. I’d sneer at pictures in the local newspaper of what I assumed to be dangerously bored housewives proudly clutching their debut short story collections. How pathetic! There was extra sneering for those who hadn’t even tried to get properly published, and were presumably blissfully unaware that there was, in fact, an established path to publication and they had foolishly wandered off in the opposite direction. Because at the end of the day, if your book was good enough for other people to read, it would eventually get published. Right?

Well, no – as I discovered when I started submitting Mousetrapped to publishers. I got pretty much the same answer wherever I went: we enjoyed reading it and we think it’s a good book, but there isn’t a market for it. What they meant by this was if they – and “they” are Irish and/or UK publishing houses – edited, designed, printed and distributed a couple of thousand copies of the book, paying for all costs including the salaries of the staff who’d have to do it and royalties to me, chances are they wouldn’t sell enough copies of it to recoup their investment. And publishing is a business after all.

But if I self-published it using a Print On Demand service – who allow you to upload your book for a very small fee and only print a copy of it when an order is placed – and e-book websites where no cost at all is involved, and I used these to pitch Mousetrapped to a global market and did everything I could to promote and sell it... well, maybe I would recoup my investment or even, dare I dream, make some money.

So that’s what I did. I self-published a paperback using CreateSpace, and e-books using Amazon’s Kindle Direct Platform and Smashwords.com.

But my years of sneering at self-publishers had – thankfully – left a mark. I knew that what I was doing was not making a book that looked like the ones I bought and read, that my book wouldn’t be available in stores and that this story was not going to end with me wallpapering my office in real gold leaf. (Or even in Laura Ashley.) I didn’t have a literary agent-shaped voodoo doll, didn’t whine about editors not even “giving my book a chance!” and I refused to use the word gatekeepers. Nor did I moan about low e-book prices “devaluing my artistry”, insist that everyone call me an “indie author” [very loud groan] or claim that by the end of next year, no one will even remember what – and it pains me to use this term, even like this – “dead tree books” looked like.

I was realistic. I was modest. And I did everything I could to make my book look right.

And I did okay. I released Mousetrapped in March 2010 and sometime this month I’ll sell my 6,000th copy. I’m self-publishing another travel memoir, Backpacked, in September, and even self-publishing a novel the month after that.

But I’m not on the self-publishing cheer-leading squad, or giving up my dreams of traditional publication. All I’m saying is this: you too can self-publish without sounding like a bureau chief at the Self-Publishing Ministry of Truth, and sell enough copies to afford a few ink cartridges or even – if you’re lucky – to write full-time.

All you need is are realistic expectations and some common sense. Oh – and to ban words like “gatekeepers” from your vocabulary. Forever.

Self-Printed: The Sane Person’s Guide to Self-Publishing is available now in paperback and e-book. Find out more on www.catherineryanhoward.com.

The lovely Catherine is offering one paperback copy of Self-Printed, sent anywhere in the world and three Self-Printed e-book from Smashwords.com (multiple formats available)! To be in with a chance, just leave a comment below.

Too Hot to Handle

Happy Monday!

Last year, Mr TR and I purchased some Scotch Bonnet chili peppers at our local supermarket. We like spice in our food and these were on special, so we grabbed them, figuring if they had anything to do with Scotland, they couldn't be tooooo spicy (apologies to anyone Scottish reading this, but the Scots aren't exactly known for their spicy food).

Mr TR mixed them into some beef mince and 30 minutes later, dinner was ready. One bite into the meal, our eyes were streaming and our mouths were on fire. Little did we know that Scotch peppers are some of the hottest in the world. Lesson learned: never take anything at face value!

As a reader, I've learned not to do the same. I've put aside some of my misconceptions about science fiction and enjoyed some wonderful novels; similarly with YA. I've soldiered on through boring-looking literary fiction and found it rewarding, and I've purchased dodgy-covered self-published novels that are amazing!

Do you have misconceptions about any genres, authors, or types of books? And have you managed to overcome them?

PS - The next few weeks will be 'blogging light'. I'll be posting on Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays until I've finished the bulk of my revisions. Drop by on Wednesday, when Catherine Ryan Howard will share her self-printing wisdom and give away copies of her new book! And on Friday, Australian Michael Hearle will also be giving away copies of his new YA novel.

Wonderfully Profane

I'm posting a bit late today due to a lengthy bleaching session at the salon. One of the perils of platinum hair.

Anyway, thank you all so much for the wonderfully supportive comments yesterday. Now, this is why I blog! I've met such a great community of people through this blog and I really appreciate you reading my drivel and responding.

It's Friday, it's raining, and something tells me it's wine o'clock (newly christened as TalliBell... you'll have to ask Jess about that one!). So, for your viewing pleasure, I present the following. You may have seen it around and -- if you're not a big fan of profanity -- you may not find it amusing. But you have to admit, it's killer marketing!

Have a great weekend.

The Curse of the Second Novel

You'd think that after getting published, securing positive reviews and even becoming a bestselling author on Amazon, writing a second novel would be a breeze, right?

Well, you'd be wrong.

Because writing the second novel, in my humble opinion, is even harder. Now, you have something to live up to. Now, you're lucky enough to have people who've loved your first work. And now, you know how critical some readers can be.

It's not only me -- I've heard over and over again how writing Novel Number Two for publication can mess with your mind. All the excitement of 'firsts' with your debut (I can't wait to get a book out there! I can't wait to hold it my hands!) is now replaced with doubt. (What if it sucks? What if it doesn't sell as well? What if... *insert your own personal demon here*?)

Caught up in the seemingly endless cycle of revisions, I admit I've struggled with this over the past few weeks. But, as I've been reminded by those close to me, all I can do is my best and make my work the strongest I can. After that, I won't have any control over it, but right now, I do. Enjoy it!

Well, I'm trying.

Any words of wisdom from my blogging buds? I could use some right about now!

TGIS!

Why hello there, Wednesday. How did it get to be the middle of the week already? No matter, because today I have author Stephanie Haefner on my blog to celebrate the release of her new novel, Soap Dreams. Over to you, Stephanie!

TGIS - Thank God it's Summer!

Well, almost! It's not technically summer yet but the weather is nice and the days already feel lighter, lazier.

The meaning of summer has changed for me over the years. When I was a kid, it was 2-1/2 months of nothing. No more homework, early bedtimes, or alarm clocks. Swimming in the lake, basking in the sun. The nights were warm with no need for a coat. It was true bliss! Then I grew up a bit, and though I still was in school, summer meant a job to earn a little bit of money. But there was still tons and tons of time for being lazy!

Then I graduated from college, and the real world fell on me. It was summer, but I still had to get up early. I still had to go to work. All. Day. Long. And I had to be in bed at a decent time so I could do it all again the next day. Didn't matter if it was 85 and sunny. There was nothing worse than being at work and looking out the window at a gorgeous day. The only time for relaxation were my two days off each week. But Mother Nature didn't always plan her rain schedule by my work schedule.

Fast forward a few years to mommyhood. I am lucky enough to be able to stay home with my kids and work from home. It use to be a home-based business; now I stay home to write. And it's a combination of both of my old worlds. I can stay up late and sleep in if I want. I can make rainy days my work days, though I do still have to work on sunny days. I love the flexibility my life now has. My husband has wacky days off and they are different each week. While school is in session, we rarely get the chance to do anything as a family. But in the summer, our daughter doesn't have school and dad's days off are everyone's days off!

What was your favorite part of summer when you were young? And now?

A huge thank you to Talli for having me! And thanks to everyone for stopping by! I wish you all a fabulous summer. Any fun plans? All commenters will be entered in a drawing to win a digital copy of my newest release, Soap Dreams! All commenters will also be entered into a Grand Prize Drawing to be held at the end of my blog tour!! A signed copy of A Bitch Named Karma (US only, sorry) and digital copies of both Paradise Cove and Soap Dreams.

Cats and Frogs

I'm a big fan of animals in novels -- so big, in fact, that I've often put a few in mine for no apparent reason and ended up having to remove the poor things at later stages. Cats, guinea pigs and roosters have all abounded! And a few will even live to tell the tale!

Do you put animals in your novels? If so, which ones?

On the animal theme, today I'm over at Catt Hughes' blog answering her wonderful questions. And courtesy of India Drummond, here is the cutest cat video I have ever seen.

Happy Tuesday!

Monday Mash-Up

Happy Monday! Hope everyone had a good weekend -- mine was spent in a flurry of dress shopping for the upcoming RNA Gala (nothing but mink, mink and more mink as far as the eye could see, thanks to the Duchess of Whatevershire for making that hideous colour so fashionable again)!

It's been awhile since I've done a round-up of recent books I've read, so here are a few for your reading pleasure.

In the Mirror, by Ann Carbine Best.

It's been awhile since I've read a memoir as gripping as 'In the Mirror'. Written in a clear, forthright style, Ann Best's life story unfolds in a seamless manner, avoiding the mundane and tangents some non-fiction falls prey to. Dealing with not only her husband's homosexual affairs but also a tragic car accident and her second husband's alcoholism, one would expect a certain amount of self-pity to be present. But, in fact, it's nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ann gives us insight into a strong, brave woman who has coped and persevered -- and overcome.

Carpe Bead'em, by Tonya Kappes.

Fun and fresh, it's a great read about finding what's important and hanging onto it.

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett.

Read this. Now.

Meet Me at the Cupcake Cafe, by Jenny Colgan.

Love. Cupcakes! Need I say more?

And a big thank you to Christine at the Imagination Station for her review of The Hating Game today! Much appreciated - mwah!

(Book links coming soon, after I throw-up. First run back after three months away... and I'm feeling the exercise-nausea.)

Can Medical Romances Be Funny?

Happy Friday! Today, I'm delighted to have Wendy S Marcus stopping by on her blog tour. But before we get to that, I want to thank Stephen Tremp for posting a lovely review of my novel The Hating Game (published by Prospera Publishing) over on his blog. Many thanks, Stephen!

Now, over to Wendy:

Hi Talli! Thank you so much for hosting me on the 10^th stop of my blog tour to promote my debut Harlequin Medical Romance, WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH, which is currently available for purchase at the Mills and Boon website and Amazon UK. It will be in stores in the UK in June as well. It will also be in stores and online in Aus/NZ on July 11, 2011, and online in the U.S. as of July 11, 2011.

For my post today I’ve decided to address the question: Can medical romance be funny? It’s a valid question. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you think of hospitals? Gorgeous doctors? Probably not. Most people think of the Emergency Room. Trauma and drama. Sickness, injury, and pain. Not much material for funny stuff there.

But being a nurse, I can tell you with first-hand knowledge, medical professionals are some of the funniest people I know. And in Medical Romance, like in actual medical settings, humor is most often found in the interactions between people and not in the medical situations themselves.

Something you may not know, in Harlequin Medical Romance, the books do not take place solely in hospitals. There are many different medical settings that span the continents. Our characters have full lives outside of work. And while there are medical scenes, the focus of our stories is on the hero and heroine. While we strive to make our medical scenes as realistic as possible, gore and tension and high-stakes medical drama is not our main focus.

Here’s a scene from WHEN ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH. It may not be laugh out loud funny, but I hope it shows that medical romance can be light and entertaining, even in the midst of the medical setting:

“You okay?” Ali asked, coming to stand beside him.

Damn it. He thought she’d gone back inside.

“Just peachy. How about you?”

“You were great with Jimmy. I’m sorry you lost your dad so young.”

He couldn’t look at her. “It’s why I became a physician, so no kid would have to deal with what I went through. I’m doing a great job of it, huh?”

“You’re not God, Dr. P.” She set her hand on his forearm, sending a flare of soothing warmth throughout his body. He craved her touch with a ferocity that excited him as much as it unnerved him.

“You coded Jimmy’s dad twelve minutes longer than any other physician here would have,” she said. “You did your best.”

He tilted his head down and to his left, and their eyes met, held. Hers conveyed genuine concern, empathy. He’d seen it dozens if not hundreds of times over the months they had worked together, directed at her patients, never at him. Yet, instead of using the moment as an opportunity for a sincere conversation between them, he chose to ignore the unwanted, long-suppressed feelings starting to stir deep in his damaged soul for a chance to play, to forget.

“Careful, Kitten,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, taking care to make sure there was no one around to hear his term of endearment that delighted him as much as it aggravated her. “I might get the impression you’re starting to like me.” His mood lifted. “That as hard as you’re trying not to, you can’t help yourself.”

“Nah.” She looked down at her watch. “The hospital pays me to be kind and compassionate. Lucky for you I’m still on the clock.”

“Good.” He leaned in close to her ear. “Maybe we can go someplace private and you can give me a little more of your commm…passion.”

She pinched him.

Good for her. The girl had spunk. “Ouch.” He rubbed his upper arm. “Where’d the kindness go?”

She looked up at him, her light blue eyes narrowed.

“I’m on the verge of breaking down.” He wiped at his dry lashes. “Hell, I think I feel some tears coming.”

She turned and walked back toward the E.R. without giving him a second glance. And she looked just as fine from the back as she did from the front, her lavender scrub pants hugging her perfectly shaped rear, her long brown hair up in a loose knot, and sensible little gold hoop earrings curving under her kissable earlobes.

“Don’t women like it when a man shows his emotions?” he called after her.

She stopped. “Lust is not an emotion, Dr. P.,” she answered over her shoulder.

“It sure is.

Come over to my place after work and we’ll do a Google search. Whoever’s right gets to choose what we do next. You wanna know what I’ll pick?”

Ali hit the button beside the electronic doors.

As they started to open he called out, “Time’s running out, Ali.”

She hesitated before walking back into the ER.

Jared waited a minute, trying to contain his smile. He knew she wouldn’t bite, but provoking her was so much fun. No one entertained him like Ali. For the first time in the two years he’d worked as an agency physician, traveling from hospital to hospital throughout New York State, Jared might actually miss someone when an assignment ended. A sure-fire sign it was past time for him to move on.

So what’d you think?

As part of my blog tour I’m running some contests. To enter for a chance to win an Amazon Gift Card, visit my website: http://WendySMarcus.com. While you’re there check out the excerpts from my books.

And now some questions for you. Have you ever read a Harlequin Medical Romance? If so, did you like it? If no, why not? And would you be willing to make mine your first?

One lucky commenter will win a copy of my 2in1 UK release which includes a complete novel by Janice Lynn. Visit me on Facebook, Twitter and Goodreads.

Thanks, Wendy. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend...

It's Thursday and folks, I fear my brain has temporarily left the building. But... my latest round of revisions is done, so I reckon I deserve a little downtime in the form of funny e-cards. Here you go! Have a great day, everyone.

Squirrels: The Next Big Thing in Publishing

I've got the inside track on a new trend in publishing: squirrels. First there was vampires, then dystopia, then Greek myths. Now, it's the secret lives of squirrels.

You know, all those things they get up to away from the human eye: shopping for new tails, eating mini-cupcakes, torrid love triangles... maybe even a little DIY. There's more than enough material for eighty-thousand words, and children and adults alike will flock to read about these vastly under-appreciated creatures.

But the novel I'm writing now has no squirrels, I hear you cry. Well, it's quite simple. Just take an existing query, and change out all the humans to squirrels. I'll give you an example, using the blurb of my new (now) squirrel-based novel, Watching Willow Watts.

For twenty-five-year-old squirrel Willow Watts, life has settled into a predictably dull routine: days behind the counter at her father's antique shop; nights watching fuzzy telly whilst the elderly squirrels of Britain's Ugliest Tree bed down for yet another early night. But everything changes when Willow's epically embarrassing Marilyn Monroe impersonation is uploaded to SquirrelTube. A canny squirrel spots Marilyn's ghostly image hidden in the film and Willow becomes an international sensation. Her dire little tree is suddenly overrun with fans proclaiming her to be the 'new Marilyn'. Egged on by fellow squirrels - whose shops and businesses are cashing in - Willow eagerly embraces her new identity, dying her fur platinum and scoffing nuts to achieve Marilyn's legendary curves. But when the only squirrel she has ever truly loved returns, seeking the old Willow, it's decision time. Should she risk stardom and the tree's new-found fortune on love? Or is being Marilyn Willow's real ticket to happiness?

See how easy that is? So be a part of publishing's next big thing. Bring on the squirrels!

Ten for Tuesday: Street Slogans

I live on a very busy street, and I thought today it would be great fun to offer you the first ten slogans/ adverts that pass by on the sides of buses, lorries, etc. (Who am I kidding -- the reality is, my brain has gone into slow-mo and this is all I can offer).

1. Sightseeing Tour of London - Big Bus Tours. Hello, tourists!*waves* (Bus.)

2. Bad Teacher. In cinemas June 17. (Ugh, it certainly looks bad. On a bus.)

3. Petit Forestier. Refrigerated vehicle. (Why in French? Who knows? On a white van.)

4. Celebrating 125 years of proper breakfasts. Anchor Butter. (Yum! On a bus.)

5. ServEquip. (Another French one! They're taking over! On a white van.)

Damn. A traffic jam. Come on, traffic, move!

6. Borderline. Specialists in carpets. (On a white van)

7. Sharm el Sheikh. Egypt: Where it all began. (On a bus)

8. Sightseeing Tour of London - Big Bus Tours. (Bus - again!)

9. Seville, Verona and Bologna. EasyJet. (On a bus.)

And another traffic jam...

10. Kung Fu Panda. In cinemas June 10th. (On a bus.)

Wasn't that informative? Let me end this super stellar post on a high note: fellow blogger Tracy Spaine needs our help for her book to succeed. For more details, hop to her blog or head over here to buy her book!

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Dreaming of... Sleep

Happy Monday! And thank you all for the wonderful messages here and on Facebook about my last post. Very much appreciated.

I write this now with a heavy head and that oh-so-tired sick feeling in my stomach. Why, you ask? Well, it's because Mr TR had a conference call for work last night at 3 a.m. Yes. 3 BLOODY A.M.! Silly Australians, what are they playing at? Don't they know people's wives need their beauty sleep? I've always been a light sleeper, and having Mr TR shuffling around talking about God knows what kind of organisms in the middle of the night is not exactly conducive to resting.

But I've noticed a funny thing. Sometimes, the less sleep I have, the more writing I do. I reckon it's because my mind stays put -- I'm too tired to flit from Facebook to Twitter and back again. I can only focus on the document at hand. My butt stays put, too. No wandering around looking for floors to clean or Twizzlers to munch.

What about you? Do you write more when you're rested? Or does it matter?

When Will I Feel Like an Author?

Yesterday, in one of my daily fits of angst, I posted the following on Facebook:

I wonder when I will finally feel like a 'proper' author. When I have five books published? Ten? Or never?

Facebook friends being the wonderful people that they are, I got back a chorus of words of wisdom that made me feel like I wasn't alone in my angst. I thought I'd share some of the responses (anonymously), many from best-selling novelists I'd never in a zillion years suspect of doubting their 'proper' author status!

• I don't think anyone feels like a proper author until they're had a feud with Martin Amis or VS Naipaul.

  
  
• I'm still waiting....but on the otherhand being paranoid and insecure are the SURE signs of a proper author so.....we're in!!!!!!
• My mother constantly worried about her writing and whether she was any 'good', even after she'd published well over a hundred books and was a million bestseller. Knock that inner critic on the head and repeat after me, 'I am a proper author. I am a proper author.
• Not only are you a proper author, you're a *published* author! I suspect the *proper* feeling doesn't come until you've paid off the mortgage with the proceeds from writing. ;-)
• Remember when you were 5 sweetie and the world was your oyster..... When you could be whatever you wanted to be? Well..... What changed....... Get that feeling back.... Because whether you think you are an author or whether you think you are not..... either way you are right xx
• I don't feel like one - yet. For all kinds of reasons. And the reasons are probably becoming irrelevant anyway... I don't feel like an author at all when I'm writing - I keep thinking: Proper authors wouldn't just be writing train of thought

  stuff but have neatly arranged have post-it notes on the door and a detailed plan - and not have an illegible ms because they were so scared of losing the moment. They'd have coloured index cards for research and character arcs , not bits of paper all over the floor or a total flipping mess in their head.
• I know what you mean - it was like before I published anything (short story/essay) I felt funny calling myself a writer - even though that's just what I was doing - then when I was published, I thought "well now I have to have to be paid

  something" then that happened, then it was "well now I have to have a novel published" then that happened, then it was "now I need to have another one published" - then another one, then it was "I should be on a best seller list or win an award to really be ligit" GEEEZ-it'll never end, so best enjoy all the little moments and be proud of what you have accomplished - there are always so many people behind you who'd kill to be where you are right now :-D
• nineteen books in and I still feel like I'm an interloper.xxx
• Talli, trust me, the 'big names' have the same doubts as those just starting out - it feels the same, no matter how many books you've had published and how many awards you've won. So I guess that makes you a proper author ;o) In a weird way, the doubts are a positive thing because it means you're trying to do the best you can for your readers - when you stop feeling that way and stop caring, that's when you're not a proper author, imho.
  
• When you can give it as your occupation without feeling a fraud. :-)
• J K Rowling is my ideal of a proper author (that is, a multi-zillionaire) and I think she has written about nine books - the HPs and some little ones about Quidditch and fairy tales and stuff. So let's say ten?
• Never:) The more books the bigger the insecurities which lead to a desire to stack shelves in Tesco. Authors thrive on 'I am not worthy'. But we still do it so we must be okay really.

Interesting, hunh? It's funny, because I always thought that once I got published, I'd immediately feel validated. And although being published rocks, it's not the cure-all to the niggly doubts and worries that existed before publication. In fact, I might even say it makes those doubts worse! But the good thing is -- I'm not alone. Thank goodness for writer friends and their support and encouragement.

How about you? What will it take for you to consider yourself a 'real' author?