OOPS! Can't forget to announce the winners from Marie Force's guest blog on Monday! All those things we can't, or prefer NOT to do.
So without further adieu, I'll let Marie announce her winners!
Karen Olson gets a copy of Line of Scrimmage because we each had a tow rope-astrophy on a ski slope and that makes us friends for life. Never, ever let go... Because if you do, you might prove to be a human domino who takes out the whole row behind you... I'm just saying... Don't let go! Lunatic Cafe gets Love at First Flight because I love her screen name and she's as much of a freak show flier as I am, so she NEEDS this book about a couple who form a bond on an airplane!
I wouldn't feel right about leading anybody on, so I'm going to say right up front that this is not a Princess Bride blog. Sorry, fans.
In spite of the title, there will be no ROUSes (Rodents of Unusal Size), no Six Fingered Men, & no love in the Fire Swamp. There will also be no more rhyming, & I mean it. (Though I will give props & bonus points to the first person to successfully finish off that quote. It's my mom's favorite.)
No, the Pit of Despair I'm talking about (hereafter referred to as the PoD) is a writerly phenomenon. It's not an underground torture chamber, exactly, though there are similarities. It's more a state of mind.
A realization.
A moment of clarity.
It's the place you end up when you must reconcile three ugly realities:
1) You have reached the limits of your talent.
Seriously. You have taken every workshop, tried every technique, read every craft book & worked your tail off. You have dug deep, you have summoned up your courage & honesty, & you have put your heart on the page. On lots of pages. Maybe a book or two (or three or four) worth of pages.
2) You have put your work out there.
You've queried every editor, every agent. You're written a kick-ass query letter, your synopsis rocks. You've endured the sound & fury of the contest circuit, & flung yourself on the mercy of every person even remotely interested in critiquing you. You've even (saints preserve you) pitched in person. Maybe you have an agent. Or even a contract. But you're doing the work. You're out there.
3) It isn't enough.
Your contest scores blow. Or maybe they don't. Maybe you're winning contests, but not getting requests from editors. Or maybe you are. Maybe you're getting full requests, but getting form rejections that get your name wrong. Or maybe that agent you sweated blood for just blew you off. Or maybe your long awaited publication date just got pushed back. Again. Or maybe book two on your contract just got shredded by your editor & you're pretty sure you only had one decent book in you.
Welcome to the PoD.
Good news, though. You're in good company. Hell, you're in great company. NYT best-selling company. And how do I (not remotely a NYT best-seller) know this?
Easy. I heard Janet Evanovich speak at the RWA conference a few weeks ago. And of course, she told us her Call Story. Now keep in mind, it's been something like 15 years & several millions of dollars since she got The Call. But between the part where she wrote & failed & wrote & failed for ten years, & the part where her husband & son tracked her down at a roller rink so they could tell her her editor had called--her editor!--she had to stop.
She got choked up & had to stop to collect herself so she could go on. Fifteen years after the fact, fifteen years in which presumably she's gained a certain amount of confidence in her talent, she still remembered so vividly what it was like to live in the PoD--and how it felt to be so miraculously released--it could move her to tears. I don't think there was a person in the audience who wasn't moved by that. Or inspired.
I know I was. Because while I don't have the faintest clue what it must feel like to see your name on the NYT best-seller list, I sure as hell know what it feels like to reach the limits of your talent, & see that big gap between where it ends & your dream begins. I know what the PoD feels like, & I know what it feels like to live there long enough to write a book or two. Or three. Or four.
So when I find myself in total despair (like when I read anything by SEP or Kristin Higgins & realize I will never write anything that witty or charming), I like to reframe things. Because what if the PoD isn't a death sentence? What if it's a prerequisite? Because here's something I know:
Maybe not everybody who lives in the PoD winds up on the NYT best-seller list. But every single writer who hits the NYT list has lived in the PoD. They all served their time.
And if they can go on to own the list, why can't we?
We got to talking on someone's post the other day or week about first loves. This got me to thinking about my first crush. No, not the lastest media-blitzed boytoy made to appear all american or rebellious for the thrill of young girls. I mean that first guy who makes your heart do little flips every time you're near him? The one you have a secret crush on but would DIE if he ever found out, especially if he didn't think of you as anything more than a buddy or little sister. (That's Gidget over there with the big crush on Moon Doggy!)
See, I have great experience being everyone's little sister. I have a brother older than me by just a little over 2 years. Our yard was one alley, one neighbor's yard and a non-busy street from the local playground/park. AND we had a basketball hoop at the end of our large driveway and a yard big enough to play a pick up game of whiffleball. My brother played baseball, basketball, football, and had a slew of friends. Great, right? All the cute boys hung out at our house.
Unfortunately. They all considered me everyone's little sister. BIG SIGH.
(In Empire Records, Live Tyler's character has a crush on a teen heartthrob from her mother's era trying to make a comeback.)
But in the seventh grade I met Greg. He was my age, just moved to our city and his family had just started attending our church. He didn't know I was everyone's little sister and we actually just talked.....a lot. Now, most girls would've used this as an opportunity to flirt. EXCEPT, remember, I was everyone's little sister. I was as straightforward and direct in my conversations with guys (still am) and had no idea how to flirt. (Goodness this would make a great YA romance, wouldn't it?)
So as my heart would do little flips whenever we'd talk in person or on the phone, I slowly came to realize that Greg thought of me as a buddy. (More teen angst.) This to a teenaged girl is worse than being the little sister. In movies, the geeky buddy type girl transforms into this cute or raving beauty and the hero suddenly sees her as something different. In real life, they never see you as more than the buddy. (Trust me.)
But, back to my crush. This was no quick, meet him, know him, over him in a few weeks crush. It went on for years. My secret hope that got me through the bad times of middle and high school years. That special boy that I knew and few of my school friends knew, since he and I didn't attend the same schools, just the same church. BIG SIGH.
(That's Mary Stuart Masterson in Some Kind Of Love, the buddy with a crush on Eric Stoltz' character.)
We did church plays together. He was the drummer in the teen choir/band that put on performances in our church and others...I was the lead soprano. We did Vacation Bible School together...EVERY YEAR. We hung out on Sunday morning, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights and once a month on Fridays when the teen groups got together. I knew his plans for after graduation, he knew mine.
Slowly, over time, (as I seem to be a slow learner in the matters of the heart), my attraction for him dimmed and I realized we would never be more than friends. We moved on. We both found mates, married, had kids and lost touch with each other.
But to this day, when I think back to my teen years, my crush on Greg always plays a happy part of my memories. He was the first boy to break my heart, (even if he didn't know it), the first that let me NOT be the little sister, but a friend. The first to let me feel what it was like to love someone not related to me.
I've added some pictures of my favorite teen-crush movies. What are yours? Do you have a favorite teen-crush book? Did YOU have a secret crush? Tell us all about it, (first names only!)Source URL: http://violeta-diario.blogspot.com/2009/07/ Visit violeta diario for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection
posted by Marie Force with an assist from hackey hudjson
Thanks so much to my dear friend (and evil twin) Aunty Cindy and all the Banditas for having me back to the lair again. And thank you all for the lovely gathering in Washington, D.C. during the RWA conference. It was great to meet most of you in person after reading your blog the last couple of years. What a fun, dynamic, and successful bunch of women! I’m delighted to be in your presence today.
This is the last stop on my blog tour for my second book, Love at First Flight, which was released on July 1. (Can you hear me huffing and puffing as I reach the finish line?) And yes, I saved the best stop for last!
I’ve had the idea for this blog running around in my head all month after a comment a friend made recently. Lisa, a CPA, said, “I can’t believe you write books. I can’t write a letter.” Ahh, but my dear friend, you would not want me doing your taxes. Trust me on that.
I get this comment quite often, and I’m sure many of you do, too. People simply can’t believe they know someone who has the ability to write books. I can’t speak for the rest of you Banditas, but the writing gig is all I’ve got. There’s nothing else. To prove this, I thought it would be fun to make a list of all the things I can’t do . . . You might want to settle in with a cup of coffee and a snack as the list is rather long. Here we go:
I can’t:
Do any kind of math. I have never balanced my checkbook, which the accountants I work for can’t bear to hear. They get hives and twitches when this subject comes up. Despite this lack of accountability, I’ve only ever bounced one check—sadly, the first mortgage check I ever wrote but that was my husband’s fault. We discovered that he can’t make a simple deposit correctly. My boss and I have a deal—I write for him, he does the math for me. It’s just better that way as I’ve proven it is possible to actually add incorrectly when using an Excel spreadsheet. I’m sure there’s some sort of class for that, but I lack the attention span to attend.
Run in flip flops in the rain. This is a recent discovery learned the hard way when I hit a shiny painted crosswalk and went flying into the intersection as my horrified and mortified teenaged daughter looked on. After a moment of debate, which I saw on her face, she came back to pull me to my feet. But she didn’t want to.
Do any sport that involves defying gravity. The list includes skiing (disastrous—generating the kind of stories that are told for a lifetime), ice skating (see skiing), rollerblading (see skiing), bike riding (a category unto itself), surfing (LOL, as if I’ve even tried it), and windsurfing (twenty years later, the ex-boyfriend no doubt still talks about trying to teach me).
Garden. I am the killer of green things that most usually can’t be killed. Want it dead? Bring it to me. My brother-in-law, the professional horticulturist, has begged me to stop. Just stop. Please.
Cook. A girl has one or three oven fires in a year, and suddenly she has a reputation. . .Somehow, my family manages to stay fed but the scream of the smoke detector is a more common occurrence than it probably should be. When the kids hear it, they yell, “Dinner’s ready!”
Sing. This is a subject of some major controversy in my house. We’ve been talking about forming a garage band with my son playing his two chords on the guitar, my daughter on trombone, my husband on the drums, and me on vocals. My voice, I say, is my instrument. They have the nerve to mock me! I envision myself in Stevie Nicks-like flowing gowns playing air tambourine, but they deny me my dream. I have, however, recently come to the conclusion that I don’t actually sing well enough to have qualified for American Idol were it not for that pesky age requirement. (Don’t tell my family I said that as I hope to one day prevail on the garage band argument.)
Drive. I hit things. Often. So far I’ve only almost hit one person, but that was her fault not mine. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. The car I recently traded in lacked paint on all four corners. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, but since the car was mostly mine, I probably had something to do with it. But just try to prove it . . .
Fix anything. As my husband likes to remind me, I’m a mechanic’s daughter but can’t turn a wrench. The way I see it why should I? That’s why I have him.
Paint. After I ruined the dining room carpet in our old house, I’m no longer allowed to use a roller. I love when he gets bossy with me and forbids me from doing something I hate to do anyway. Ohhh, scare me! Did you see that episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond?” The one where Ray teaches Robert that if you screw something up often enough your wife won’t ask you to do it anymore? Well, the same strategy applies to husbands. I’m not saying I messed up the carpet on purpose. I’m just saying I don’t have to paint anymore. You do the math—it’s not my thing. I tried sponge painting once. My cousin asked who’d been shot. I don’t do that anymore, either.
Diet. I once told the same cousin that my goal in life was to get so thin people would worry about me. He suggested I get a more attainable goal. Yes, I still speak to the fink but only because he’s my son’s godfather.
Arts and crafts. Other women sew, they make scrapbooks, they cross-stitch, etc. My idea of a scrapbook is keeping huge, overflowing boxes of certificates and keepsakes for my kids. Someday I’ll do something with all of it. I swear. And besides, my husband sews so why do I need to? I went through a cross-stitching phase in which I started a baby blanket for my godchild. The kid is now 12. The blanket remains unfinished. It might make a nice high school graduation gift. Don’t you think? (Note to self: pay someone to finish blanket in next six years.)
Clean. When you have two full-time jobs something has to give, right? I have my priorities. My husband and I like to say that it’s a good thing we have company once in a while otherwise the Board of Health might be interested in making a stop at our house.
So, as you can see from this list, it’s a good thing I can write somewhat passably. The rest of my life is a certifiable disaster!
Are any of you like me? What can’t you do? I bet my list will get longer when I hear some of your disaster stories. I’ll be saying, “Yup, me too!” I’ll give copies of Line of Scrimmage and Love at First Flight to two different people, so let me hear from you! While you comment, I’ll be seeking therapy as this list turned out to be quite a bit longer than even I expected it to be.
Finally, I suppose I should end my blog tour with a plug for Love at First Flight: When Michael and Juliana meet in the airport on their way to a weekend in Florida, he’s engaged to Paige, and Juliana has been living with Jeremy for four of the ten years they’ve been together. Michael and Juliana are in committed relationships that they expect will go the distance. Neither can imagine on that Friday night how dramatically their lives are about to change. Over the course of the weekend, both relationships hit major speed bumps. So when Michael and Juliana meet up again on the flight back to Baltimore on Sunday evening, both are reeling and trying to process what’s happened. Over the course of that return flight, they strike up an unlikely friendship that later leads to love!
Thanks again for having me! I look forward to chatting with you all today.
Aunty here, FESS UP everyone! What do you do really badly? Or not at all? Don't worry, what's said in the Lair, stays in the Lair!
I have winners for the book packages I picked up at RWA!
Package One is for comments on last Sunday's blog, "The Vision Thing." The package contains the following books: Outcast by Joan Johnston, Mystic Rider (signed) by Patricia Rice, Undressed by Kristina Cook, and the combined edition of Traitor's Kiss, and Lover's Kiss, by Mary Blayney.
This package goes to Joder.
Package Two is for comments on today's blog, "Somebody Save Me." It contains Heart of the Wolf by Terry Spear, Don't Bargain With the Devil by Sabrina Jeffries, Too Good to be True by Kristan Higgins, and Warrior's Bride (signed) by Gerri Russell.
This package goes to Lynz Pickles.
Congratulations, y'all, and thanks to everyone for stopping by!
If the winners will email me their contact information via the hackey hudjson link on the blog page, I'll get those right out to them.
We all love a good rescue, don't we? Many of us in the Lair especially like rescues involving massive boom. Most rescues, though, are a lot quieter. Even when there's boom in a romance novel rescue, the more important salvation comes when the hero and heroine free each other from their baggage--when love lets them finally shed the ghosts, scars, and fears of their pasts and make a new life together.
This blog was inspired by the Remy Zero song "Save Me," which happens to be the theme song for Smallville. The chorus, which is the part in the credits, starts, "Somebody save me, let your warm hands break right through me." (At least I think "me" is the last word in that line. It's hard to tell, and I found competing versions on the net.)
Think for a minute about all the saviors in the novels and movies you love--from "everyday" heroes who find it within themselves to step up when needed to firefighters and police and soldiers and Navy SEALs and BAD agency and other covert operatives and Dark-Hunters and vampires and wizards and super-heroes. Genre fiction abounds with them. There's something innately appealing about a character dedicated to saving people.
In Tears of the Sun, a gritty, violent but moving film, Bruce Willis as Lt. Waters leads a SEAL team taking refugees out of a war zone. They come across a village where residents are being brutalized by rebel forces, and Waters tells his guys they're going in. One of his men says, "Rules of engagement, LT?" They've been told by their commander that their rules of engagement, their code of conduct, is to fire if fired upon. Waters looks at him and says, "We're already engaged." By compassion and simple humanity. And I have to say watching the SEALs take out the bad guys was a thing of beauty, if a bit gory.
In Acheron, we finally take a complete look at a character who has spent millennia saving humanity. At last, we have all the pieces of this hero's story, all the pain and humiliation he had to overcome, and see the damage his youth did to his soul. The first half of the book makes for difficult reading because it's so full of pain. Luckily, all that leads to redemption.
One of Acheron's friends tells Soteria, Ash's true love, to remember how hard it is for someone who has known neither kindness nor compassion to show them to others. As Ash and the Dark-Hunters have saved others from agonizing deaths, Tori rescues him from the humiliation and pain of his past. It isn't easy. The biggest obstacles to the rescue are his shame and, despite all the marvelous things he's done and has the ability to do, his lack of self-esteem and lack of faith in his own resourcefulness. In the end, Tori's love for Ash forces him to be the man she sees him as and gives him a bright future.
Sebastian St. Cyr, Viscount Devlin, dramatically risks life and limb to save his love, Kat Boleyn. It's a dramatic, fabulous rescue, but it doesn't resolve their larger problem. Sebastian has extraordinary physical gifts, money, and a brilliant mind, but he can't convince Kat a lord and an actress can build a life together. She unshakably believes marriage to her would isolate him socially and ultimately make them both unhappy.
In a later book, a tragic secret comes to light. I'm not spoiling it, but I will say I hoped someone would rescue one of the characters from the resulting grief and pain. Looks like that'll be in a future book. I hope.
On Smallville, Clark Kent goes into tunnels full of Kryptonite to save his arch-nemesis, Lex Luthor. The tunnels are also wired with explosives, on detonators that are running. With the Kryptonite down there, Clark is in as much danger from a bomb blast as anyone else. His friend and confidante Chloe Sullivan tries to discourage him, but Clark won't be swayed. At last, she grudgingly concedes, "I get it. You don't get to choose who you save. Not if you're Clark Kent."
Acheron and Sebastian and Willis's Lt. Waters and Superman and their ilk inspire those around them and, by extension, their readers or viewers, to look to their better angels. How cool is that?
I've been watching a lot of Smallville lately. Comic book geek that I am, I watched the first couple of seasons, but I'd been out of high school so long that a show focusing on high school angst, even with super-powers, just didn't grab me. I drifted away from it, watching an episode occasionally if I remembered it was on. While I wasn't looking, it got interesting. Lois Lane brought a dose of attitude and a fondness for verbal sparring with Clark to Smallville. What really got me to pay attention again, though, was a rescue.
I happened to tune in to an episode last year in which Clark had no powers and was working as slave labor somewhere in the former USSR. Finally, someone showed up to rescue him--Oliver "Green Arrow" Queen, the world's greatest archer. Oliver and Clark didn't fight their way out of the situation in quite the usual way, though they did throw some punches. Oliver mostly talked and bought their way out, preserving Clark's cover and his own.
Note what Clark says to Oliver at the end of that clip, "What took you so long?" He knew his friends would find him. Counted on their doing so, and don't we count on our friends to help when we need them? In the previous season (Season 7 for DVD-ites), Clark and Oliver teamed up with a posse of super-heroes to rescue people with powers from becoming Luthorcorp's lab rats, a mission that played a big role in forcing Clark to take a wider view, to look to all the world's problems and not just those right around him.
The Chloe character mentioned above irritated me hugely at first because she wasn't in the Superman mythos I grew up with, but I've come to like her. I've also come to view Lex Luthor differently. Thanks to the writers and to Michael Rosenbaum's nuanced portrayal, Lex was a much more complex character than the comic books gave us. (The character has since departed.) Lex actually saved Clark in one episode. Watching a bunch of episodes back to back, as I've been doing, reveals a pattern of Lex being desperate for love. In fact, Chloe tries to explain Lex to Clark by saying, "Total absence of love. Someone once said that's the definition of evil." Yet every time Lex had a shot at love, his Machiavellian dealings torpedoed it, just as the fears and scars and ghosts of so many characters' pasts in romance novels torpedo their shots. Until the right lover comes along to save them.
Five for Fighting's Superman album contains a song called "It's Not Easy" that actually is about the Man of Steel and contains the lines, "Even heroes have a right to bleed" and "Even heroes have a right to dream." Sure, they do. But they often put their own pain and their own hopes and their own dreams aside to save the lives and wellbeing of others. That's part of what makes them heroes. It isn't always simple, though. As Oliver says to Clark in one episode, "I know you want to save everyone, but sooner or later, you'll have to make the hard choices. That's what heroes do."
In a romance, heroes and heroines who sacrifice their hopes and dreams for each other usually somehow attain them anyway or end up with something even better. If only things were that way in real life.
Some of you may remember that I have a weakness for ensembles. The quality of a hero's or heroine's friends can say a lot about the lead character. Even loners usually have someone who helps or supports them. Nicholas Brisbane and Sebastian St. Cyr are loners but have people who help them. Brisbane has his assistant and his former mistress. Sebastian has Tom, his light-fingered tiger, and the magistrate, Jarvis. Holmes had Watson and, at times, Inspector Lestrade. Frodo had the Fellowship of the Ring and the gift of Galadriel. Acheron had Jaden and Simi and Appollymi and Savitar and, for a time, Nick.
Chloe and Oliver and Lana and Lois (one of the few "good guys" in the Smallville universe not in on Clark's secret) and the love of Martha and Jonathan Kent all make Clark who he is. Clark is lucky to be surrounded by people who care about him and keep his secret, but Oliver Queen pushes him to step up to what his powers can do, which is why I used his picture so many times on the blog. (I also think he has a way cool costume, pictured at right.) Coming from someone who also sacrifices to save others, as Oliver does, the advice seems to have more punch for Clark than it would coming from an ordinary person. All the people in Clark's life help him remain true to the best in himself.
Isn't that part of what our own friends and loved ones do best, keep us true the best in ourselves? Save us from our darker angels?
For more about Smallville and its fandom, click here. New episodes return in September. What's your favorite book or movie rescue (with or without boom)? Which hero or heroine do you think made the most heart-wrenching sacrifice, and why did you choose that particular one?
A mystery package of books from RWA (which have now arrived, so I'll be posting winners tonight) will go to one commenter.Source URL: http://violeta-diario.blogspot.com/2009/07/ Visit violeta diario for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection
I've had the pleasure of attending two conferences back to back the last month—Thrillerfest in NYC and RWA in Washington D.C. with the fabulous Banditas! Being surrounded by writers for two weeks was incredible. It also made me consider another aspect of life as an author and I'd love to hear your opinion:
Most writers enjoy studying people (we're all looking for character traits for our heroes/heroines/villains!) and watching everyone at the conferences, I started realizing how the public life of a writer has changed dramatically with the advent of new technologies.
Back in the day, authors rarely had their photos included on their book jackets—now the entire back cover often features the writer in a scholarly pose (deep in thought, perhaps dreaming of the next method to kill off a character!).
Before the internet shrunk the world, authors didn't have much opportunity to meet fans from different countries. Now writers and fans can mingle no matter where they live. Just look at the Banditas…we're from a variety of countries that circle the globe.
Also, given the advent of Book television, Book radio, and the fact that writers are regular guests on talk shows and news programs, publishers are looking for authors who are comfortable promoting their novels in a public forum.
What happened to being able to write in seclusion? Are the days of the solitary author toiling away in front of the typewriter in obscurity over? Do authors need to accept that the world wants to know who is behind their book? Publishers are actively looking for authors who can both promote and be promotable. The new media encourages writers to do more to reach out to readers. Now fans are given unprecedented access to their favorite authors.
This has caused a near tectonic shift in the personality required to be a successful author. If you're more of an introverted personality type, do you feel overwhelmed by this change?
Have you ever read a novel, then met the author and had your opinion change or vice versa?
Do you think this change in the level of author/reader contact has been good for the industry?
I don't know if any of you remember Maggie and Jiggs from the comic strip Bringing up Father, if you don't, go have a look atWiki. I can understand Jiggs's love for Corned Beef and Cabbage cos my family too love Corned beef from the can. It is a must in our pantry as it is so versatile to cook with.
Ingredients:
1 can Corned beef
1 small onion - sliced
2 potatoes - peeled and diced
1/4 tsp pepper
oil for frying the potatoes
chopped spring onions for garnishing
Method:
Heat oil and fry the diced potatoes until light brown.
Remove and set aside.
Remove all the oil and heat wok/skillet again.
When heated, add in 1 tbsp oil and sweat the sliced onions.
Add in the corned beef and saute until fragrant.
Add in the fried potatoes and saute to combine.
Add pepper, dish out and garnish with spring onions before serving.
A good book is a bit like a date. You browse the bookshelf, looking for those attributes that speak to your inner passions. If you like the look of the book, you might sample a few pages to see if you can invest a couple of hours with this guy...er...story. Does it interest you? Stimulate, maybe? Makes you linger over your latte to slip in a few more pages?
Following my dating analogy, the first couple of lines would be the pick up lines - engineered to spark your interest, engage your attention, encourage you to take the book home to curl up with between the sheets. (And they wonder why the sale of romance novels is booming (grin)).
Writers (and lounge lizards) know that first lines are really important. Authors tend to rewrite them, trying to get just the right cadence, the right tone to hook your interest. My first line for The Seduction of a Dukeinspired the rest of the story. Unusual for me, but true. I'm been to Newport Beach in Rhode Island and could vividly see this scene. Here's what I wrote for the beginning of Chapter 1 - the prologue came later:
"With all the malice she could muster, Francesca Winthrop whacked the wooden croquet ball beneath her foot, sending her mother's ball careening across the manicured lawn, over the edge of the Newport cliffs, and possibly into the blue gray waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Pity, it wasn't her mother's head."
Can you tell I was going for a chuckle, a smile, a bit of curiosity as to why Francesca was ticked?
Here's another first line - not mine - but one of my favorites.
"Thursday, March 17, I spent the morning in anxiety, the afternoon in ecstasy, and the evening unconscious." Dick Francis, Risk (1977)
How about this one? "It was understood throughout the great Northern Continent of Zantalia that assassins were invariably male. Clutching the marriage contract in one hand, Kalena stood on the wide threshold of the Traders' Guild Hall and considered what it meant to be an exception to that rule." Jayne Anne Krentz, Crystal Flame (1994)
One more - this from fellow bandita Kate Carlisle :
"My teacher always told me that in order to save a patient you'd have to kill him first."Homicide in Harcover (2009)
About ten years ago, I asked other authors to send me their favorite first lines in books they had read. Being the basically anal accountant that I am, I kept track of how many first lines opened with humor, suspense, dialogue, description etc. and kept that information duly filed. I'd like to revisit that study and see if times and first lines have changed. I'm thinking I can incorporate this into other statistics I've accumulated about well-written books. So I'm asking for your help.
Tell me your favorite first lines from any book. Be sure to include the title and author. If you don't have any favorite first lines from books, pick up lines will do (grin) but I'd really prefer lines of a more literary nature. I'll compile the lines submitted and report back about 11:00 PM EST the results for any interested participants. Of course, prizes (yes - that's plural) will be awarded.
Bar Refaeli posted for the fall campaign ads of Rampage. She replaced Giselle Bundchen who's currently pregnant. Bar appeared in sexy dress and office outfits that will perfectly suit contemporary women. By the way, here are some of Giselle's photos for the Spring/Summer 2009 Ads. Image Source: People.com and Popcrunch.com Source URL: http://violeta-diario.blogspot.com/2009/07/ Visit violeta diario for Daily Updated Hairstyles Collection
OOPS! Can't forget to announce the winners from Marie Force's guest blog on Monday! All those things we can't, or prefer NOT to do.
In 
- this from fellow bandita Kate Carlisle :
