The short answer is, because I live it.

Seriously, when my books come out, I expect I’ll get some comments on the fact that they include a fair amount of slapstickyness.  People stumbling, tripping, falling on faces and arses (usually the heroines).  Some people like that kind of comedy in moderation (raises hand) and others don’t–it’s not ALL there is to my books, of course.  But I write it in because…honestly, I don’t know how to write a heroine who doesn’t fall on her face occasionally.  Because I do it all the time.

Right after New Year, for instance, I made a lunging grab for my younger dareling as he took off across the parking lot.  My boot caught on the curb, I fell swiftly and hard, and I ripped a newish pair of jeans and still have yellowing bruises on both knees. *sigh*  Yep, that’s me.  As my grandmother used to say, “Just call me Grace!”

These incidents also factor into my own real-life romance.  It’s astounding that Mr. Dare convinced me to marry him at all, considering that I incurred some serious blunt trauma on one of our first dates.  And it was all his fault. Yes.  It was.

See, we were at the Getty Center in LA (and the man was getting some serious points for taking me to an art museum on one of our first dates.  I’m not sure he’s taken me to an art museum since, but…)  The Getty Center is several galleries, connected … Read More »

*blinks*

Sorry to have been scarce for the past week.  I sort of went into e-hiding, to focus on writing.  The good news is, after several false starts, I finally have a beginning I like for my new book.  Which doesn’t mean it’s the beginning that will be in the final draft necessarily, but it means it’s a viable starting place and I’m making good progress.  Yay!

Basically, toward the middle of last week, things were not looking good.  I was completely frustrated with my circular “progress” and just not having fun writing the story–which is a sure sign something is wrong.  I was so distracted, I clean forgot to watch the season finale of Project Runway.  Mr. Dare got fed up with my irritable, impossible-to-live-with-ness, he threw me out of the house and forced–forced!–me to go to a nice hotel for the weekend and type my fingers off.  So that’s what I did.  And bless him, it worked.  I came back energized, optimistic, and very clean (I think I took five showers in 2 days–that’s how I do my best thinking, after all, and then all that unlimited hot water and free white-ginger soap…mmm).

How do I reward this man?  He really is a hero.… Read More »