I just heard:
VEILED PASSIONS got a great review in Romantic Times Magazine, 4 1/2 stars, along with a Top Pick and the K.I.S.S. award.
Huzzah!
When The German ISN’T Perfect
An actual conversation that occured five minutes ago:
Setting: TMac is at her desk, drinking coffee and fixing a scene in her latest masterpiece. The German breezes by the doorway.
German: I was going to make breakfast.
Me: Okay. If you make it, will you also clean it up? (In my defense, we’re leaving in an hour to go golfing for the day.)
German: I didn’t want to clean it up, no.
(He gets a bonus point here for honesty.)
Me: So you want to make a big mess and you want me to clean it up, or you want to leave it for the day so I can clean it up later. This is what you’re saying.
German: Why are you making a big deal out of this?
Me: (Sighs and glances at the clock. I guess I’m done my morning edits.) I’d just like to know what I have to get done before we go.
He walks away and goes into our bedroom, angry. When he returns, he says the following.
German: Maybe it’s time you start using that progesterone cream again.
Dear readers, this cream he speaks of is for PMS. So what the German is in fact saying, is that unless I am willing to clean up after him without comment, I must be a seething, raging case of hormones.
Because I am, in fact, NOT a seething, raging case of hormones, I declined to respond or further engage. I find that when a man is accusing a woman of being hormonal, they’ve reached the final threshold that leads to either a full-on fight or a discussion that will end badly. There is nothing a woman can say when a man takes this stand that will not seem combative, emotional, or unreasonable.
He walked on, and is now happily banging away with pots and pans in the kitchen and singing to the radio.
I guess I’m cleaning it up.
THE END
Word Count: 126,226
Current Status: Fried
Mood: Grateful
Will blog more when the words come back. Right now, they’re all used up. I’m off to open a bottle of really, really excellent scotch that I’ve been saving for this occasion.
The World’s Worst Blogger.
I almost typed The World’s Worst Booger. Which I would probably be, as I detest snot and therefore would be forced to hate myself.
Today I got an email from Beth.
Subject: Hey.
Content: Where the hell have you been?
Where’ve I been? What happened to June and July and half of August? Allow me to elucidate (it’s my blog, so I get to use words like elucidate, because when I use those words in Real Life, people wrinkle their noses at me and become annoyed at my profligate (my blog) use of the English language, and while I would like to point out that it’s our mother tongue and as such should be easily understood when we are conversing, I become flustered at their nose wrinkling and refrain):
So there I am, bouncing along through my life with a book simmering away. Life, she was good. I had a WHOLE summer ahead of me! I was SO HAPPY.
Alas, life wasn’t complicated enough, and my German, saddened my his loss of The Fat Bastard, also known as Chester, began to contemplate acquiring a kitten. So we did.
Alas alas, one kitten isn’t complication enough – so we got two! Sisters!
One wouldn’t suspect these two babies in crimes against plants, but don’t let their “innocent” faces fool you!
But remember TMac and her pissed off appendix? Right, well, there it was, fermenting in its own vileness until one day it could take it no more. This appendix had had enough of TMac and her generously sized abdomen. One day in early June, it decided to blow that joint and make a break, only to be thwarted by the good Doctor Shearborne and his mighty scalpel.
I am now in possession of a three inch scar, and I am here to tell you that sadly, an appendix does NOT weigh five pounds as I’d so desperately hoped, and also? Doctor Shearborne does NOT have the ‘while we’re at it’ kind of attitude that I most prefer in a surgeon. You know, such as, “Well, she’s already unconscious, so while we’re at it, let’s go ahead and do some liposuction on this tummy, sculpt this waist, and hey, I’ll bet she wouldn’t mind if I removed that unsightly wart.”
I know for a FACT he’s not a team player in this regard, because as he wheeled me into surgery, I sweetly asked if there were any way possible he could hook me up, to which he replied, “Not a chance.”
!
AND THEN, after the surgery which, in my opinion, was rather ill-timed, as I would much rather have spent weeks recovering in FEBRUARY when who cares about being outside? Instead, I had to give up golf, riding my bicycle, and various other athletic pursuits that I lamented the loss of only until I was cleared to resume, at which time I reverted back to my normal indifference, because hello? I have a book to write.
On a happier note, my German and I are coming up on our 20th wedding anniversary (I know, I look so young!), and we decided to commemorate this blessed event with something that will grow and endure (and also we really just wanted one) and so we installed a pond.
WARNING: COMPLAINTS AHEAD
To summarize the rest of my summer: It Has Sucked.
END OF COMPLAINTS
So I’m reallythisclose to finishing the novel, and I’m hoping to squeeze an entire summer of fun into the remaining two weeks I’ll have left. And then I have to (cue whining) get a job.
What are the rest of you doing?
Thursday 13
*UPDATED*
I tried to upload pictures of my sweet Baby German, but WordPress hates me. I’ll keep trying, but meanwhile, today’s post is dedicated to the one I love. (And believe me, he’s FAB)
**UPDATED AGAIN**
I tried this. Did it work? If so, it’s my German and me!
13 Things I Love About My German:
1.) I know I have referenced his bedroom skills, but they do deserve another mention. My German is a wonderful lover. It ALMOST seems selfish to hoard him all to myself. But that’s okay. My therapist assures me that certain selfish behaviors are quite healthy. So back off.
2.) He’s really funny. Like as in, really quick with the one liners, but not in the jokey “I’ve got one for you” creepy way. More in the super witty, you can’t believe he said that way.
3.) He’s a hard worker. This is really important, because I could never respect a slacker.
4.) He has supported me in my writing career for more than 10 years, and never once has he ever said a single word about the fact that pretty much any money we have is because HE earned it. He also never questions my spending, and he never, ever undertips at restaurants. I think the way a man handles his money says a lot about him.
5.) He smells as good as he looks.
6.) He likes watches, and he’s not too good for a nice Swiss Army or something, even though he likes Tags and Omegas and Breitlings, too. He’s easy to buy for because of this, which I really appreciate. Don’t tell him, but I’m cooking up a plan for a pretty sweet piece of wrist candy to mark our 20th.
7.) He takes me golfing with him! And he says things like, “Nice shot, baby!” and “You look hot when you bend over to mark your ball.” This makes for lots of extra fun on the golf course, and he always takes me out for a beer afterward. My German is fun!
8.) He has broad shoulders and big muscles and a really nice ass. I am shallow enough to love this about him.
9.) He is very affectionate. Always with the hugging and the kissing and playing with my hair and rubbing my feet. The German loves to snuggle!
10.) He talks dirty to me. And he’s good at it.
11.) He wants me to be happy, no matter what. He doesn’t cramp my style – he lets me be me.
12.) He loves our boy. Even though he’s hard on him sometimes, he really loves our son. So much that once in a while, he gets misty when he talks about him. The German has a great heart.
13.) He’s honest and loyal, and I trust him completely. This is perhaps the thing I love most about him, and it says an awful lot about him, that he could win complete trust from a woman like me.
The quickest, easiest 13 I’ve done yet.
Wednesday
I love Wednesdays. Not the beginning, not the end, just the nice fat sweet stuff right in the middle of the week.
Nice! (Photo stolen from Cracked.com)
So yesterday I spoke with Brent Monahan, my beloved mentor, and when he asked how the book was going, well, of course he had to hear Baby Tracy moan and cry that it’s horrible, just horrible. He took pity on me and helped me focus, and we came up with a few tweaks that might just WORK. The bones are there, but what I’m looking for is a living, breathing, flesh and blood thing (that hopefully does not resemble Frankenstein in any way).
I’m looking for resonance, and Brent reminded me of his three golden rules: Clarity, Brevity, Unity. Which are great when you KNOW WHAT THE BOOK IS ABOUT. Ahem. He also helped me nail down the themes. So I’m back on track. Thanks, Brent!
I also took my son to the eye doctor, and my poor, sweet little laddie needs glasses. Poor Baby E!
It’ll be okay. He has a GREAT personality.
Oh, and I’m back on a diet. Yay for me. I can look forward to weeks of low energy and gas pains. But hey, I slept last night. Life has a way of equaling things out.
Happy Wednesday!
Monday
First things first: I slept last night!
My weekend:
The German and I attended a lovely wedding on Saturday night at Skytop in the Pocono mountains. We had a blast – drank and danced (The German danced!!!). The German and I even went out onto the terrace and slow danced beneath the lights outside, which was just about perfect until he whispered the lyrics to the song in my ear, and then perfection was actually achieved. Ladies, if you want to be happily married, marry a man who whispers in your ear.
After the reception, The German and I went exploring the resort and found ping pong tables, where I discovered that after 4 scotches I cannot hit the ball. We then found an indoor mini-golf course, where I discovered that after 4 scotches I can still putt. I ended up wandering into a room that had flapper costumes in boxes, and I also discovered that yes, I DO look fabulous in feather boas, a fact that I had long suspected but never confirmed. We wandered some more and found a tap room, wherein I enjoyed a cold, creamy Guinness and some conversation with new BFFs (the best BFFs are always found in tap rooms after hours). Then, off to the room where we made the very best use of the hotel bed and the feather boas.
All in all, a very good wedding. Thanks Baby Matt Matt!
Yesterday we met our new BFFs for breakfast and then said our goodbyes, made plans to hang out again, and drove home. Upon arrival at the German/MacNish household we did nothing, rendered useless by extreme fatigue and mutual hangovers. We watched golf, though, which makes for very good intermittent napping. I highly recommend Sunday afternoon golf when you’re too tired to move.
In other news, I haven’t been blogging much because I’m in the weeds with this new book, the shape and size of which is vast and formless just now. I need to hemorrhage several more chapters, and I have not a frigging clue what’s going to happen.
This is the part of the book where I have long, detailed fantasies about returning my advance money and calling it quits.
Also? Despite the sleeping last night (which was really just my body trying to recover from the liver training), I’m still tired.
And so I’m off to Get Back To It.
Oh, but first? Have you heard that song by the Flobots? Seriously. It will infect your brain and repeat endlessly. I know they’ve got stuff to say and all, but is it necessary to record an earworm?
And second? Get a feather boa. Or two.
Saturday
Got insomnia?
Whatever! Stop your complaining and cheer up. Need help? Look at this:
He’s dishy and I’m spoony. We’re a perfect match! And speaking of perfect matches, check THIS out:
Why, yes. That IS Colin Firth drenched in coffee. I did say we were a perfect match, no? Here I am, so tired I want to die, and into my life comes coffee with Colin Firth! (I don’t need no stinking half and half. I want whole man in my coffee, please.)
And because I have nothing else to say, now that I’m having torrid fantasies involving Colin Firth and an espresso machine, here’s a meme I stole from Beth, because if Beth can steal it from Lyvvie and Lyvvie can steal it from Chick, than I figure it’s mine for the taking.
You’re feeling: Tired, and very worried about the book I’m writing.
To your left: A walk-through closet that will someday be my wine cellar. Beyond that, the pantry and the five steps leading up to my kitchen.
On your mind: The book, the book, the damn book, and three repeating questions I keep asking the damn characters who inhabit the damn book: Who are you? What do you want? What is the worst thing that could happen to you?
Last meal included: A cocktail.
You sometimes find it hard to: Sleep.
The weather: Overcast and cool. Rain expected later.
Something you have a collection of: Books, shoes, evening gowns, and jewelry.
A smell that cheers you up: Clean sheets, fresh air, the German’s skin.
A smell that can ruin your mood: Vomit.
How long since you last shaved: Yesterday.
The current state of your hair: Long and straight (I love my flat iron!).
The largest item on your desk/workspace (not computer): My whiteboard/cork board thingie that is leaned against the back of the desk, behind my laptop.
Your skill with chopsticks: Excellent. I learned chopsticks before a fork, because I lived in Taiwan as a child.
Which section to head for first in a bookstore: Romance.
Something you’re craving: Sleep, and in lieu of that, coffee.
Your general thoughts on the presidential race: Canada seems a lovely place to live.
Favorite place to go for a quiet moment: A bicycle ride.
You’ve always secretly thought you’d be a good: Actor.
Something that freaks you out a little: My book is due in 8 weeks. (This freaks me out more than a little, actually.)
Something you’ve eaten too much of lately: Chinese food.
You have never: Gotten a tattoo, shaved my head, or dated a three hundred pound biker named Pedro. I’ve also never written a best selling novel, had my work made to film, bought my dream house in Key West and a flat in NYC, and had a dog named Dave.
You never want to: Lose my sense of fun and excitement, my hopes and dreams.
(Something else I’ve never done):
SBD
Since I got the new cover for my upcoming novel over the weekend (scroll down to check it out), I’ve been giving some thought to what makes a good cover and what a cover says about a book’s contents.
Personally, I’ve bought books based on the covers many times. I’ve also not bought books for the same reason. And I’m a writer – you’d think I’d know better. I blogged once before about Joanna Bourne’s latest novel, The Spymaster’s Lady, and man oh man, is that a bad cover over a really good read.
A cover is supposed to do one thing: Convince the reader to buy the book. But before you can get that close, you have to seduce the reader to pick it up. Essentially, you have to make them want to touch it, to want to hold it, and hopefully, they’ll flip it over, read the back copy, and maybe open it and take a peek at the first few pages.
I have to say – I’m really happy with my back copy, and as for the cover itself, I like it. I think it’s pretty and sensual, though seriously lacking in blurbs from well-known authors. (Damn me, why don’t I network?!)
My only worry is that the cover is SO sexy. It might make the potential buyer think the book is loaded with sex, which it isn’t. This could scare off the reader who doesn’t want lots of nookie, and disappoint the reader who does.
We ran into the same problem with my first novel, VEILED PROMISES. Behold:
Looks nice, right? Pretty in pink. Probably got a sweet romance, a pampered heroine (maybe even a hoyden!), and some indulgently doddering secondary characters.
Wrong. This book is about manipulation, control, and power struggles gone wild. In fact, when it was reviewed by TheRomanceReader.com, the reviwer noted in the first line, “Veiled Promises by debut author Tracy MacNish should come with a warning label. Certainly the soft pink cover gives no indication that the book’s content would include the most vile, under-handed, vicious, psychotic villain the reader is likely to ever encounter. ”
My opinion was that because the book was dark, the cover should be dark. This way the reader who wants and prefers such will be drawn to it, and thus you’ll have a better shot at meeting a reader’s expectation. My editor felt differently (and she certainly has more experience than I), and felt that a dark cover would sink us, because though the content of the book is at times very graphic and painful, ultimately the novel is about hope and the joy in finding ones true purpose and place in life.
My second book, VEILED DESIRES, has a brilliant cover:
Lovely. Sensual, dreamy, and evocative, but also bold in its own way. I love this cover. It captures the essence of the book, and I think it’s very touchable. This book sold very well, and while yes, I do think it’s a solidly good story (ahem), the cover is ultimately the reader’s first contact with the book, and I think it did its job.
So we’ll see come October – if some angry chicks start bagging on my book on Amazon, bitching that the book doesn’t have much sex… well, it’ll mean that the reader expectation wasn’t met, that’s all.
Ultimately, I think VEILED PASSIONS is a good book. I say that without fear, or even egotistic pride. As its writer, I feel like I got really close to saying what I wanted to say, and when I reread it, I’m happy with it. I know saying such things opens me up to more criticism, because people really like to find fault with things that an artist says is finished, or done, or dare they admit it: Good.
And as the creator of the books, I have to come to peace with the fact that while the cover is out of my control; the content is not. So with that in mind, I have pages to write. Feel free to weigh in with your opinion about the new cover – scroll on down and take a gander at the full-size image.
