In 2006, 75% of single Americans encountered someone they were interested in but let the opportunity to become better acquainted pass them by…and later regretted it.

According to the Harlequin Romance report from 2006, rather than make conversation, most of us grab a newspaper, play with our cell phone, or look away–all reactions that dramatically decrease the chance for interaction with new people.

According to the report, men are even more inclined to look, but less inclined to act than women. Hardly as bold as we might believe, nearly 70% of men admit that they’ve encountered someone who intrigued them, but they just couldn’t act on it. Only 55% of woment indicated the same regret.

70% of singles depend on their friends to introduce them to new people. The number tends to be higher for women (78.7%) than men (63%)

42% think chance is the best way to meet someone, despite the fact that less than 20% actually met via a chance encounter. While the romantic appeal of a fateful meeting caters to our sentimental side, it isn’t always the most practical or proactive way to meet new people.

Although less than one percent believe the workplace is the best place to meet someone, in truth almost 20% (and this includes my daughter) met their significant other at work.

What do you think is the best way to meet new people?

* Through friends?
* By chance?
* At a party, bar or club?
* Online?
*At work?

How did you first meet your current or last significant other?
*Through friends?
*At work?
* By chance?
*At a party, bar or club?
* Online?

I’m going to compile the results and then we’ll compare our unscientifc sampling to the Harlequin survey statistics.

Everyone who responds will have a chance to win a hardcover copy of Debbie Macomber’s newest release “Twenty Wishes.”

I’ll go first.
I think the best way to meet new people is through friends.
I met my husband through a friend

Okay….how about you?

Yesterday I realized I need to return two pairs of shoes. When they say having a baby changes everything that means your feet, too. But the receipt wasn’t in the shopping bag. I think it fell out onto the dining table when I removed other items from the bag. If you saw our table, you’d know what a daunting task it is to find a small slip of paper amidst the mounds of mail, pizza coupons and other important things waiting to be sorted and put away. Finding “away” for everything is a challenge we’re still working on.

With Daniel happily playing in the activity-thingy beside me, I get a sack for recycling and begin sorting paper. Daniel has a major spit-up which requires a wardrobe change, which reminds me I need to start another load of laundry. To keep up with a baby, we need to average one load per day. In transferring the previous load to the dryer, I notice we’re low on fabric softener, so I write that on the shopping list posted on the frig. Then I remember we’re also low on butter and bananas so I snoop through the cupboards and add more items to the list. Where was I? Right, looking for a receipt.

Now Daniel is fussing – it’s time for a diaper change, bottle and a nap. A half hour later I finally get him settled in his crib and return to the table, but something in the sink reeks. I load the dishwasher and head back to the table.

There’s a couple of bills in the stack, including a credit card bill for materials my husband used on a job (he’s a self-employed paint contractor) which reminds me the client still owes us for the now-past-due invoice. So I pull the job folder and make phone calls to track down someone at the property management company who will get the check in the mail for real.

Daniel awakens and we go through the whole diaper change/eat/clean up/diaper change routine. Husband has arrived home and showered so I hand off the baby and return to my office to put the folder away, and almost trip over a box of papers I found while cleaning in the baby’s room (our former guest/storage room) last week. Mixed in with other stuff are old magazines I promised to give to a critique partner tonight so she can make a collage. I sort papers for a few minutes but realize it’s time to go to Jazzercise class. I’ve given up trying to lose the 30 pounds I gained post-partum – three months now of thrice-weekly 60-minute workouts and still the scale refuses to budge – so instead am focusing on tightening up the 30 extra inches on my waist. Okay, it’s not really 30 inches, it just seems like it when I look in my closet at all the clothes that used to fit. And I am making progress, just very slow.

The store where I bought the shoes is only a short detour on the way home from class and this would be a perfect time to return them… except I still haven’t found the receipt. Sigh.

I recently told a co-worker about a similar day, when I did a bunch of things but not the one thing I set out to do, and she told me about a marvelous book: Organizing Solutions for People with Attention Deficit Disorder, by Susan C. Pinsky. Neither of us have ADD but she pointed out us creative types tend to have many traits in common with those who do. Hmm.

As I thumbed through the pages, I was amazed at how many of the tips I already use. For example, we don’t sort laundry. We have three baskets in our room – no hampers with lids because we won’t take the extra steps to walk over there and open a lid but we willshoot for two points – one for whites, one for my delicates-keep-your-paws-off-my-silks! and one for everything else. With added baby stuff, we’ve learned you can wash almost everything together – just use cold water, add a cup of baking soda, and don’t use bleach.

Some of Pinsky’s rules are too strict for those who don’t have ADD – I think we do need more than one wooden spoon – but there are some tips I hadn’t thought of and want to put into practice. Better organization = less time spent looking for things = more time to write.

Now, where did I leave the book…?

Wow! There’s a desk under this clutter! A desk! Who would have thought it? It’s a nice desk too. A plain, drop-fronted, mahogany Regency writing table and there’s book prize waiting for the reader who can tell me which of my heroes gave it to which heroine. The reason I know the desk is still here is that I tidied it up. Not on purpose mind you, but because I decided that there was an urgent need for the blue filing cards I bought several years back to assist in scene placement. Said blue cards were nowhere to be found, but I had a very clear memory of them being on this desk.

Since sporadic burrowing failed to disinterr them, I resorted to a major excavation of the piles of paper surrounding my laptop and discovered that the computer was actually sitting on a desk. I also discovered a pile of tax receipts which will make my accountant a happy woman, my youngest son’s Harry Potter tattooes, several book marks and the details for my Paypal account. And the blue cards of course.

The original idea when I bought them was to jot down the scene outlines for a book on them and then work out where the scenes were supposed to go in relation to each other. After which one would be able to write the book in double quick time. I have a very dear and respected friend who plans and writes whole books this way from scratch. The system sounded so good in her workshop a few years ago that I gave it a try only to discover that what leads one author to Nirvana is the Way of Writer’s Block and Despair for another.

I am a devotee of scribbling. It would be nice if I scribbled in the same notebook all the way through a book, but that’s a New Year’s Resolution for another decade. Anyway, I scribble. Then it doesn’t feel like work and I can do it for hours ignoring starving children (my own), mounds of laundry, and dust bunnies that make out-in-the-paddock bunnies look like they have fertility problems. But recently my scribbling came to an abrupt halt as I faced the knowledge that it was time to transfer my scribbles to the hard drive. Which is where the blue cards come in.

Currently I am plotting/writing a book in which several murders take place – be afraid, be very afraid; I was actually shocked at the relish and ease with which I could kill off characters in various brutal ways – and of course these murders have to be investigated. In the course of my scribbling I’d written several scenes which in my scribbling haste I assumed would follow on from each other. But when I sat down to type them up, it occurred to me that the order in which I had conceived and scribbled them was not necessarily the only possible order. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this – blue cards.

This is the moment of glory for those little blue cards. I am congenitally incapable of organising a book or chapter which does not yet exist, but it is perfectly possible to use the blue cards to arrange a series of scenes which are already in existence.

So I sat down with the little blue cards and jotted down the outline for each scene on its very own card and then shuffled them around until I had a logical order. I was really pleased with myself until I spotted the Fatal Flaw; they were all the same sort of scene involving the same two characters dealing with the investigation of the murders . . . a bit dull all strung together like that. But I needed those scenes, only not all at once. Whereupon I grabbed a blank blue card and jotted down an idea for a different sort of scene that could break things up and provide some action, and another which could develop the hero and heroine’s relationship and also provide a few clues, and so on. After which I shuffled the cards again and discovered that I had pretty much laid out two whole chapters with a minimum of angst, swearing and chocolate. It hadn’t felt like work either, that’s very important. The marvellous thing was that I’d been able to mess with the scene order and pacing without having to cut and paste and rewrite.

At this point my editor messed with my pacing by emailing with revisions on another book and I had to stop playing and actually work for a couple of weeks tweaking the previous book and finding out all about the seedy side of Bristol. But that’s done now and I can get back to my murders and type those chapters up.

What I’m hoping is that having done all the shuffling to get the scenes laid out logically before I type, I might have a lot less cutting and pasting and rewriting to do further down the track. Which would be nice because too much of that plays merry hell with a book’s continuity and can lead to heroes forgetting to unbutton their breeches at the right moment, heroines who remember something before they knew it in the first place, and editors asking if there was really a Blank Street in Bristol, or had I forgotten to fill it in?

Caveat: I’m not advocating this method. Far from it. In my experience one writer’s method is another writer’s madness. I know some writers who actually thrive on organisation and need their workspace (they even call it that!) to be tidy and have a vase of flowers sitting on the desk. My study has a corner where everything goes when we can’t think of somewhere official to store it, and any vase of flowers on my desk would be knocked over by the cat. Or me. Shouldn’t blame the cat for everything.

I do find it interesting though that a pile of cards that have had numerous close calls with the paper recycling box have finally come in handy. Although it’s possible that they were only on my desk still because I couldn’t find them to throw them out!

I thought today I would share some of my favorite websites with you. I don’t have a lot of time to surf, but these are sites I visit almost every day. Maybe you’ll find a few new faves and share some of yours with us.

1) The Jaunty Quills—oh, but you already knew about that one, right!

2) Free Rice —This website is run by Poverty.com, and it allows you to practice vocabulary. For each word you get right, they donate 20 grains of rice through the UN World Food Program. The words are hard! Try it. You’ll learn a new word (and help feed the hungry).

3) The Animal Rescue Site –This is one of those sites where you click and the sponsors donate money to help pay for food and care for animals. It also links to similar sites for the rainforest, literacy, hunger, breast cancer, and child health.

4) Vegan.com–I realize most of you aren’t vegetarians, much less vegans, but I thought since Oprah was doing that 21-day vegan challenge, some of you might be trying it too. I’m going to go vegan this summer (again), and I just love this site and the podcast. I can’t wait to try the top 10 recipes.

5) Kids-in-Mind–I think every parent should be familiar with this site. I’m a teacher, and it helps me choose which movies are appropriate to show my students. Check it out. It’s really objective.

So those are some of my favorites. What about you?

Hope all of you and yours have a happy and memorable Memorial Day! Good thoughts go to all of those who have been in or are in service. Thank you!

Since this is Memorial Day weekend, I decided to set aside time to recognize some of the people I’ve loved who’ve passed on. Gone but not forgotten holds especially true for these fine individuals:

My parents: Albert and Irene
They were wonderful parents. My mother and I were best friends. She was a person with a lot of good friends….because she was a good friend in return. No matter what I did, I knew she would always support me. My father was a kind, gentle man who loved games and puzzles. When I was in high school, he was also the dad who could be counted on to take a car load of girls to out-of-town football games.

My father-in-law: Roger
Roger was a great guy. Intelligent and well educated he never met a person he didn’t like. He had a talent for drawing and loved to do impromptu sketches of people (which they always insisted on taking with them) I started dating his son in high school and he was the one who encouraged me to go to college. I ended up being the first one in my family to graduate from college.

My aunt: Orleatha
She just passed away last month. My mother came from a family of eight but I was closest to “Lee.” She was a woman who always looked on the bright side of things. She loved to laugh.

How about you? Who will you be remembering this Memorial Day? Or do you have someone in the military protecting our freedom who needs to be remembered this weekend?

Some of you might know that I was a nurse before I became a writer. Although – as some in the medical profession would say – once a nurse, always a nurse. But I don’t practice professionally any more, even though I keep my license current by taking continuing education courses every year.

What you might not know is that I worked in Intensive Care Units for most of my career – in a couple of big-city trauma units. Needless to say, I saw a lot of crazy stuff, from accidents, to suicide attempts, to murder attempts. Some of my patients were criminal suspects under police guard. Some were pediatric patients whose troubles were more complex than the pediatric ICU could handle (we had a fabulous Intensivist in our unit). Many were patients with chronic illnesses that became acute – situations they shouldn’t die from, like complications from kidney failure. Or certain kinds of heart disease.

I worked during all my pregnancies and went back to it after my kids were born. It would have seemed odd to take a hiatus from my professional life (yeah, crazy, I know!). When my youngest started school, I was working the afternoon shift two nights a week, getting home somewhere between midnight and 1:00 am. I found it impossible to come in from a stress-filled night and go right to sleep, so I started writing to unwind. I’d always been a reader, so it seemed a natural progression to try writing.

I didn’t bother with essays or short stories, or even poetry. I went directly to writing a full-length novel. Two of them, in fact. The better of the two (in my opinion) was called The Rescue, a Medieval tale of a brawny knight in hauberks and chausses (oh yeah!) and a feisty heroine.

When my tome was finished, my kids were old enough that I thought I could return to work full time. In my absolute naïveté, I told my husband I was either going to increase my hours at the hospital, or become a full-time author. (Pure dumb confidence, I guess – to think that all it required was my decision to do it!)

It was February 10^th when I put The Rescue into the mail. I sent it to the editors at Harlequin Historicals, and went about my usual daily routine, working, taking care of kids, managing the household. On February 20^th, I received a phone call from New York. It was a Harlequin editor, offering to buy The Rescue. At the time, I didn’t know how rare it was to sell so quickly. I didn’t have contact with any other authors, didn’t know a thing about the business. I accepted the offer and started revising the book as requested (I had to cut 60 pages), and The Rescue was released a year later with its new name - The Bride of Windermere.

I’ve learned a lot about the book business since then, and I think I’ve improved my writing skills. In the past, my nursing abilities helped to supply a lot of happy endings in the ICU, and now I get to provide a different kind of happy ending for a lot of contented readers.

P.S. Turns out we did see Indiana Jones last night and … I’m not going to spoil it for anyone. But I will say that it’s everything an Indiana Jones movie ought to be!

Have you ever gotten a really cool birthday gift? I mean one you didn’t expect and then there it is perfect, just for you. Well, today is my birthday and someone has orchestrated a doozie for me. Yes, the Professor got me a very cool waffle/grill/griddle thing from Kohl’s that I really wanted, but that’s not what I’m talking about. And my parents sent me a box full of goodies. I got a check from my in-laws and I’m coming up with great ways to spend that money.

But this other gift is so cool because, well, I get to share it with all you. Want to know what I’m getting?

Um, yummy! That’s right. You might think Indy is coming to a theatre near you because it’s summer and that’s a big movie time. But think about it. It’s a Thursday right before a big holiday weekend. Not a normal time to release a movie. So it must be just for me. Happy Birthday, Robyn!

The Professor and I already have our tickets. We’re going to the big theatre in Knoxville and I can hardly wait. I get so excited when I hear the theme song in previews or commercials. Talk about long awaited sequel. But again, just for me. I realize the movie would have come out eventually, with or without my birthday, but the timing, well, it could not have been more perfect.

Okay, everyone go out today and see the movie and let’s meet back here later and discuss it. I can’t wait!

Maybe I’m annoyed because our election system allows a few Midwestern and New England states to eliminate most of my choices for president.  By the time Oregon held its primary yesterday, we had few candidates to choose from.  Maybe I should be annoyed with the candidates who dropped out early.

Maybe I’m annoyed because — again — the one facial moisturizer that actually works for my extremely dry sensitive skin has been pulled from the market, to be reformulated and relaunched at a significantly higher price.

Yes to all of the above, and add to that it’s time for season finales, which means once again I’m honked off at Hollywood.

When they kill off a main character in a long-running TV show, they say they’re keeping the show edgy.  Gritty.  Being in _____ (you fill in the blank) is dangerous, and anyone could be killed at any time. 

Well, I’ve had it with edgy.  I never worried that Reed or Malloy would actually be killed.  Didn’t have to worry about McGarret or Danno, nor Starsky or Hutch, either.  They might be shot or otherwise hurt, sure – we’re always beating up our heroes because we’re invested in their well-being and it’s emotionally satisfying to take care of them, to bring them back from the depths of despair or the brink of death. 

Remember the one where Hutch was faking his amnesia for revenge after Starsky’s crazy driving finally led to a crash?  Fun.  Escapist entertainment.  That’s what I want from my TV viewing of scripted dramas and comedies.  If I want edgy, gritty reality, there’s always the news.

On CIS last week, a main character was killed by a dirty cop.  The departing actor allegedly has off-screen alcohol or drug problems, but still, they couldn’t have left room for the character’s return if the actor got clean and sober?  Another series regular left earlier this season but at least she left town so I can imagine her alive and having off-screen trysts with her on-screen lover, and possibly available for guest appearances.

Monday night, House killed a series regular in a storyline that’s going to have serious consequences for next season and may have killed a friendship.  NCIS killed a series regular last night, and don’t even get me started on the character deaths on Lost.  Even my husband commented that it seems all the shows are killing someone.

Sometimes a familiar character is killed to raise the stakes.  See how dangerous it is for our intrepid hero!  See how important it is that she succeed!  People are dyin’ here!

Sometimes it’s not a character that’s destroyed but a beloved inanimate object.  In the story I’m writing now, my hero Nick is the captain of the Wind Dancer. Both have played small but key roles in two previous novels and now it’s their turn to star.  I’ve based Nick’s ship on the Lady Washington, a reproduction of the original Lady W launched in 1750.  I’ve gone sailing on her twice, and spent hours chatting up the crew and examining every square inch the public is allowed to see.  Posters of her rigging and schematics decorate my office door.  And of course there’s the Pirates connection, where she played the Interceptor.  (I first went sailing on her three full years before Captain Jack set his sights on stealing her, btw.)  When I write about the Wind Dancer, I see, feel, smell and hear Lady Washington.

Wind Dancer is involved in a race for hidden treasure, fighting off a dastardly rival along the way.  There’s a really cool battle at sea.  To raise the stakes, my critique partners want me to blow her up. 

Sometimes killing a main character backfires.  Remember what happened to Dallas after they killed Bobby?  Eventually they brought him back and explained the stinker season was just Pam’s dream.

So, I am not blowing up Wind Dancer.  Damage it, definitely, because it’s emotionally satisfying to hurt and then make it all better.  In the fun, escapist world where I spend some of my precious free time, my beloved familiar characters do not die or blow up.  Why doesn’t Hollywood get that?  Or am I alone in this?