I did three interviews recently.
One at USA Today Happily Ever After ... http://happyeverafter.usatoday.com/2017/08/15/keira-soleore-beauty-like-the-night-joanna-bourne-interview/with Keira Soleore
and one at All About Romance https://allaboutromance.com/aar-interviews-marvelous-joanna-bourne/with Dabney Grinnan.
And another one with Anne Gracie at Word Wenches. That one's at:
Very much like me except for the hatSpent the morning with writer friends, being a good writer, working hard on the WIP. Got more than a thousand, nice, solid, first-draft words laid down. Good for me and back pats.
Boogied out of the cafe in early afternoon, bought groceries, picked up Indian carryout, and headed home in a leisurely manner, pleased with myself and the world because I'd done good work.
Take out food somewhat Like my own
Bout halfway home I looked at the
It's one of those days when I don't know whether the rain is helping the farmers out or spoiling the standing hay, so I just send general good will to the plant kingdom and hope they are all as happy as my fuchsia.
Fuchsia is one of those words I never spell right the first time and I don't use it often enough to make a mnemonic for it. (I can spell "mnemonic" though, which is one of life's little ironies, isn't it?)
Me, embracing the chaoticI don’t like to expect things. If you don’t go about anticipating wonderful things, you don’t get disappointed when they don’t actually happen. If you accept that the world is inherently chaotic and slipshod, you can just shrug and say something fatalistic in the face of disaster and get on with the work of trying to fix stuff, which is one’s purpose in the world, or at least mine.
But today I am foolishly anticipating and hoping air conditioning will come t
They call bread the staff of life, using staff in the sense of “a long stick used as a support when walking or climbing or as a weapon”, which is to say, metaphorically, since even the most warlike among us seldom take up baguettes and plunge into battle. What we mean when we talk about bread this way is that it supports us and keeps us alive.
This was true all through the historical period in which I interest myself – the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. Bread provided most of the ca
I am surrounded by small town Fourths of July ... (Fourth of Julys?) By parades, fireworks, heat and holiday America.
In my closest little town, along with the taco trucks and BBQ, we got jello-mold-and-potato-chip family picnics. We got gatherings of convivial folding canvas chairs with drink holders, the drink holders being occupied by beer cans or red plastic cups of Mountain Dew.
The police force is out, crisscrossing the crowd in an earnest way. Mid
I'd been hearing this kinda fluttery banging for a bit, while I went type type type type and ignored it.
"What's that?" I thinks, not paying much attention to myself which is always a mistake.
And then a bird comes flying across the room which catches my wandering attention.
Being the brilliant person I am and skilled in the ways of the wild, (just call me Hawkeye,) I say "Durn it. A bird's got in," and schlep over to where the bird is batterin
Most of staying sane in the freelance writing world is doing what you can
get done, rejoicing in that, and jettisoning the rest with a minimum of regret.
So I'm sitting here in my comfy chair at 5 in the morning,
wearing soft, loose, comfortable clothes,
exercised up as of yesterday,
with a pair of lidded pots drying on the shelf at my potmaking class at the community college,
my herbs get
I want to let Mandy-the-Dog free to run about the woodland a-chasing of the deer (hums, “My heart’s in the Highlands. My heart isn’t here.” )
and otherwise amusing herself when I go down into the valley to the coffeeshop where there is air conditioning and, well, coffee.
But if I leave the door open so she can get in and out, Mandy hears me start the car and takes off, even if she has been given a big plate of chopped chicken breast and should be wholly immersed in that
A friend has helped me learn to make memes.
I put one on my author page in Facebook and I feel very proud of myself.
This is obviously the slippery slope.
Now you will see many awkward memes in my postings.
Resolving to promo and meme is the equivalent of promising myself I’ll go to the gym to push around weights and move levers, which is to say it is something I know is good for me but which fills
I was on twitter last night, late in my time zone, chatting about whether one could write a Romance where the protagonists were no-kidding-around dirt poor. Is there an HEA for folks scraping by in the dangerous underbelly of existence?
HEA, in case you have wandered in looking for information on the UN’s policy on Education, is “Happily Ever After”. That, or HFN — Happy For Now — is required if a book is to be genre Romance. No happy ending and you may be writing a lo
Coffee is good. Coffee gives me something to do with my eyes and hands and mouth when my brain runs out of writing.
Coffee has caffeine. Whee!
(jo perks up)
I get lattes, which are thick enough and foamy enough that it's like eating something almost. When it comes to coffee, this is how I roll.
Tea passes through my heart and mind like a cool wind, leaving nothing behind but cleanliness and quiet. I like tea and the dawn.
parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Also a tomato plant
I will admit to being lazy about gardening, which in my case means herbs. I try to winter a few over, but even lavender and rosemary generally don’t make it through the cold on my mountaintop. And then, what with one thing and another, I’m never out with my hands in the dirt early enough to grow from seeds.
You know those folks you see out in the garden shops in May, (and June,) fu
The cup that underwent various adventuresIt’s cool enough I’m wearing my sweatshirt when I go out. It’s athletic gray and says, “University of Gallifrey.” One of my geekdoms. I am nothing if not a loyal fan of Time Trvellers.
I was out yesterday taking the dog to the professional dogwash, which is extravagant of me but I do it every six weeks or so because they cut her nails so I don’t have to. Both Mandy and I are happy about this. There’s also something called anal glands of which
Not my cat, Not my butterfly, alas
I look out over the dooryard, which is an exercise in ragged untidiness.
The more or less trimmed off area runs downhill steeply away from the cabin maybe fifty or sixty feet. It’s full of rocks sticking up out of the ground because that’s how we roll here on top of my little mountain. It’s a mix of ground mint and mosses and herbs. Some grass. There are usually flowers in there if you look close enough. Today it's violets and horehound and
I am not unlike the cat in this photoMy mind is filled with tasks this morning.
The ceiling fan in my bedroom turns on and off with a hanging chain. Generally, this is a fine thing, but the chain has broken off way up inside the housing, up where the motor lives in a den heavy with the threat of electricity.
Also, one of the lights in the kitchen has burned itself out and I must replace it. Again, this involves standing on ladders and hoping I’ve been thorough in turn
It’s Friday. Not uniquely Friday for only me, I realize, but nonetheless full-frontal Friday. Sort of the Janus of the week,
I am no longer entangled in the five-day workweek, but I am not loosed from “about to fall into the weekend” Friday.
It’s “my mountain roads are about to be full of cyclists and speeding tourists” day.It’s “get it done now because tomorrow the bank and post office have weird hours and might even be closed” day.It’s “there’s open mike tonight at the cafe
Only sorta like my current venueI've gone to Wegman's -- the supermarket -- to have a bite to eat in the middle of this rather beautiful afternoon. This is the big grocery store in the smallish city that is a long drive away.
I ate from the lunch bar to be wiild and free. A small celebration, but mine own. I settled on Red Thai Curry and a spinach quinoa mini souffle. And a raisin oatmeal cookie. If you are what you eat, I am obviously a woman of subtlety.
Friday, about midday, I was sitting in my big comfy chair, writing. Pretty much immersed in Paris in 1730. I looked up and saw a big black bear leaned up against the sliding glass door.
I thought “ACCCK”
In case you were wondering what people think when something unexpected and not noticeably benign happens to them, that is what comes to their mind. You have my permission to quote this in your own writing as it is a useful thing to know.
After I thought “ACCK!” I
We're coming to the end of summer here. Lots of birdcall in the woods and the cicadas are making a racket all night long. Not so much in my garden. A few baby lettuces. The rest is flowers. I took very poor care of my growing things so they look scraggly and neglected.
I'm drinking coffee and watching my hummingbirds. There are three of them at least. Maybe more. I have no idea why they live up here in the woods.
Soon I'll get to work.
Bond Street and a passel of gentlemenJoanna here, back with another exciting dispatch from the universe of the past. Talking about roads, in fact.
I was going to wax eloquent on road building in general, starting with the madly competent engineering Romans and going right on till I got to ugly but practical tar-bound macadam in 1902, pioneered by a Swiss doctor in Monaco.
Have you ever noticed how very many Victorian doctors invented things? I worry a bit about their pa
Interview with Jeannie Lin
I’m interviewing Jeannie Lin, writer of most excellent
Historical Romances set in Tang Dynasty China and Steampunk set in an alternate but formidably realistic historical China. She writes love, adventure, complicated family relationship, and high stakes in a world that sets all our assumptions wobbling. These are not your everyday Romances, folks.
This week Jeannie and I celebrate the release of our new novellas — h
So. I wrote my long and complicate post and was ready to put it up on the Word Wenches' website.
It would NOT post.
Me and technology, we are not friends.
For about an hour I tried this trick and that to get my post out of Typepad limbo and onto the website.No luck.
I decided to refresh the page. I was reluctant to do this because I might lose the posting altogether and that meant restarting from a file saved to my computer as an .rtf file and I'd have to redo all the nig
I'm so excited that the Last Chance Christmas Ball is up for pre-order.
In case you've missed the news, this is the Word Wenches Christmas anthology. Going blurbish ...
Christmas 1815. Upstairs and downstairs, Holbourne Hall is abuzz with preparations for a grand ball to celebrate the year’s most festive—and romantic—holiday. For at the top of each guest’s wish list is a last chance to find true love before the New Year…
I wrote this elsewhere in response to somebody worrying they were not doing their plotting 'correctly'. I think they were worried about not using an outline maybe.
So this is what I said:
Writing is not like the Olympics where, as I understand it, athletes watch computer images of themselves and train to lift the left elbow a half inch on the turn so they conform to the optimal mathematical conformation. Nor is it necessarily a Tai Chi kata where one finds enlightenment