This month I’m participating in bizarre ritual in which hundreds of thousands of people voluntarily torture themselves. For me this process involves a lot of sitting on the sofa, a lot of eating, and a lot whine. Nope, it’s not Thanksgiving with the family. It’s National Novel Writing Month.

In case you haven’t heard of it before, here’s NaNoWriMo in a nutshell. You’ve got thirty days to write a 50,000 word manuscript. The goal isn’t to create something polished and publishable, but to write with abandon.

This is the first year I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo, even though it seems like  a no-brainer for me. After all, the books I write are exactly 50,000 words. And I’m a big fan of the shitty rough draft. I always plow straight though, just getting the words down. This year, I bit the bullet and joined in.

But I am not writing with abandon. Instead here I am, mid-month, and I’m out of words. Seriously, the past two days, when I should have been storming full steam ahead, I’m struggling to get out even a page or two. And there’s a fly in my living room, which has nothing to do with anything, but is annoying. And when you’re stuck in a book, everything that’s slightly annoying in real life becomes hugely annoying. Plus, maybe he’s sucking my creativity!

But I doubt it.

I’m guessing it’s just the middle of the book slump. I always hit one. That point where I simultaneously fear that I’ll fill those 50,000 words and that my story is too big to tell in the pages I have left. The truth is, I don’t really believe in muses or writer’s block. I believe there are days we work really hard and other days when we don’t want to.

I guess this week has been one of those weeks when I wanted to be doing other things. After all, that other November tradition is bearing down on us and I’d much rather be brining a turkey or making cranberry sauce. In fact, I’ve got a big pot of chicken stock simmering on the stove right now.

So if this is a boring post, I apologize. This is what uninspired writers sound like. Not pretty, is it?

But if you made it this far … then I’ll reward a few lucky people who respond. This time, I’ll give away copies of Affair with a Rebel Heiress, which is connected to the book I have out now, The Billionaire’s Bridal Bid. If you’d like to read more about that book–and I hope you do!–here’s a link to a blog I did about it on the eharelquin site.

So what do you have going on this November? Any other Nano-ers out there?

Is anyone else partic

Last night my husband and I went out to dinner to celebrate an anniversary. When I told him we needed to go out, he said, “Why?” To which I replied, “It’s November 17th.” That was all that needed to be said. He chuckled, and pretended not to know what I was talking about, but it was obvious he did.

You see, on November 17th, 1995 we had our first date.

We were thrown together by mutual friends based on the fact that both Steve and I liked comic books. I suppose it was as good a base as any. The first time we met I thought he sounded like John Lovitz (He does a great impression), and was not terribly impressed. Imagine my disappointment — I had seen a photo of him a year earlier and thought he was cute, only to find out he was married (he married quite young). When I discovered he had gotten a divorce and was coming to visit this friend, I was a little eager to see if he lived up to expectations. Physically he did, but that VOICE! lol.

Needless to say I eventually heard him speak in his own voice, which turned out to be surprisingly pleasing. I asked him out — he was only newly single, after all — and he said yes. He was late and I had decided to engage in experimental cooking, so it’s a miracle we ever made it to date #2. However, when he left later that evening, he gave me a kiss good night. As I watched him walk down the street my heart was in my throat. I knew right then and there that he was him — the guy I was going to end up with. Of course I didn’t tell him that. lol.

You know, later on we discovered that his divorce had been finalized two days before that first date. I’d like to take this occasion to thank his ex for being such a cow that I looked like a princess by comparison.

So, every year we do something to mark the date. Sometimes I think we put more effort into that anniversary than the one that marks our wedding day. And you know what? I think I like the look of him even more now than I did back then. And yes, I still engage in experimental cooking, and his impressions are a hit at parties. I’m extremely lucky to have found not only a great husband, but a best friend as well.

Now I’ll stop bragging and start the conversation. Are there any special milestones or anniversaries that you and your significant other celebrate? Or maybe you have something in your family or with an old friend instead? Spill!

Ask The Right Question

Has anyone here ever watched “I, Robot” with Will Smith? There was a scene at the beginning where Detective Spooner (Smith) is investigating the murder of someone he knows and the victim leaves him an interactive hologram message with preprogrammed responses.

Det. Spooner asks several questions but the hologram firmly tells him its responses are limited. Frustrated, Spooner asks one last question. The hologram replies: “That, detective, is the right question.”

That scene kept running through my head when Terri Brisbin, my mentor for Writing With The Stars and I worked on the final challenge for the Kensington Brava contest.

I’d tweak my excerpt. She’d come back with a question.

I’d change it. Terri would study it. Then ask more questions.

Finally, exhausted after trying several variations, we were on the phone and Terri asked: It’s just a thought, but do you think you’re in the right character’s point of view?

There was dead silence at the other end of the line and I felt like someone had drenched me in a barrel of ice water.

Terri had asked the right question.

As soon as she said it, my brain started making projections. The original excerpts were fine, but they didn’t have that pounding heart moment. We both knew it. We both identified the problem. But what was I missing? Where was my zing?

When Terri asked about the point of view I knew immediately it was the right question, and I had the answer. I couldn’t hang up fast enough (sorry, Terri) because I knew exactly how to fix it. I changed the point of view character not just from the scene but the entire chapter.

Like magic, that scene burst to life. The hero in Mistress Of The Stone had the most to lose. It was HIS chapter, and HIS love scene.

I was so thrilled at the transformation, I stared at that copy with my mouth open. This was a real ‘Aha moment’ for me. It was a learning experience I will never forget, and I owe it all to my mentor, Terri Brisbin.

No matter what else happens in this contest, it was all worth it for that one incident alone. It changed me as a writer. It made me think like a reader.

Have you ever had an ice water moment like this happen to you?

***

Maria Zannini’s latest release is a science fiction romance called TRUE BELIEVERS from Carina Press.

Mix one cynical immortal and one true believer and throw them into the biggest alien-hunt the world has never known. Rachel Cruz is a Nephilim masquerading as an archeologist and she’s stuck with an alien who believes she can lead him to his ancestral gods. Black Ops wants to find these gods too. They want them dead.

Follow Maria here:

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Maria Zannini used to save the world from bad advertising, but now she spends her time wrangling zombie chickens, and fighting for a piece of the bed against dogs of epic proportions. Occasionally, she writes novels.

Maria’s entry at the Kensington Brava contest is called Mistress Of The Stone, a paranormal historical set in the 16th century. Please stop by the RT Reviews site and vote. Maria thanks you and her dogs thank you. Woof.

PS from Terri — Maria really did all the ‘heavy lifting’ and the results are wonderful! If you have a chance, please stop over at Round 2 of the RT Book Reviews/Brava Authors contest and vote for her entry!!

I’m expecting guests—and I’m so excited!  My parents are flying down from Canada today to spend a couple of weeks with us here in Florida.  We will all be together for Thanksgiving.  I’m looking forward to busy days of shopping, antiquing, restaurant dining, sight-seeing, cooking, baking, and all the fun those activities entail.

Getting ready for guests, though, requires some organization at my house.  That means lists.  My “to do” list to prepare for my parents’ arrival is a whole page long (and now continuing onto the back), and has tasks large and small on it—everything from “wash the kitchen floor” to “clean paw prints off sliding patio door.”

Since I started the list over a week ago, it has turned from a smooth, clean sheet of lined paper to a crumpled, smeared mess (thanks to putting it too close to the kitchen sink).  But that list is my lifeline.  If I accomplish all that’s on the list, the house will be ready.  It will be clean, tidy, and “done,” so I don’t have to give one more thought to the housekeeping, and can give all of my attention to entertaining.  I don’t see my parents all that often, and I want to make the most of our time together.

With entertaining comes the responsibility of cooking meals, including the special Thanksgiving Day turkey dinner with all the trimmings.  I enjoy cooking, and making a different recipe every night, which entails another list, this one for groceries.  I keep it taped to my calendar, where it’s easy for my family to find and add on items when we run low.  That list, too, is another lifeline.  If I didn’t have my shopping list, I wouldn’t remember half of the things I needed to buy at the grocery store.  I’d rather not have to do two trips to get what I need.

My husband looks at my lists, smiles, and shakes his head.  He doesn’t believe in lists.  The Brit believes he remembers better if he doesn’t make one.  He’s very organized in his own way, so I guess he has a different method of keeping track of details.  I have friends, too, who can “wing it” when it comes to meals, putting together parties, or even packing for a vacation (yes, you guessed it, I always make a list of what to take). 

I truly envy those people who don’t need lists.  I, however, shall never give mine up.

***

What about you?  Are you a list-maker?  Or do you manage just fine without lists?

Like a lot of American women, I don’t love exercising. I do it—resentfully. Mostly through walks and the occasional plodding run, which I can only endure if I pretend to be Rocky Balboa. If only, I’ve thought many a time, I could get my exercise while sleeping. Just climb into the magical exercise chamber, doze off and wake up eight hours later having done my 30 minutes of cardio. It got me to thinking about some of the wackadoodle products I’ve seen advertised, geared at people like me.

The Wondersauna Hot Pants. My mom had these. Oh, yes she did! Mom was always looking for a quick and easy way to trim and tone, and like a lot of us, she’d spend countless hours and hundreds of dollars avoiding 20 minutes of exercise. So okay, one day, she was wearing the Wondersauna Hot Pants (don’t you just love that name?), hoping to shed a few pounds before my dear old dad came home and they went out on their Friday night date, when what to her horrified eyes should appear, but my father, home early. She dashed into the bedroom and desperately tried to get out of the Wondersauna hot pants, but dang it, they were stuck. Getting off inflatable pants turned out to be pretty tough, so Mom did what any desperate woman would do in order to save face—stabbed at her thighs with a plastic fork until she punctured the dang pants. They deflated with a hiss, she kicked them under the bed, then threw on a silky bathrobe and went out to greet my dad. “What were you doing, hon?” he might have asked. “You’re all flushed.”

“Oh, you know…just…thinking of you, big guy,” she may have answered. She always was crafty.

The Shake Weight. All you have to do is hang on, gang, and the Shake Weight does it for you. Uh-huh. Of course it does. McIrish has threatened to buy this for my Christmas gift. If he does, you’ll probably hear the scream.

The Abgymnic. It’s an electronic belt. Strap it on, go to sleep, and in the morning, you’ll be…what? Burned? Electrocuted? This sound suspiciously like electroshock therapy to me, and I try to avoid electroshock therapy whenever possible. Then again, if it meant never exercising again…

The Facial Flex. I think this one speaks for itself, don’t you? Even if it worked, can you imagine sitting there like Trigger, with a bit in your mouth, watching TV while your significant other sat across from you?

Doorknob Rope Exercise. Again, my mother. She’d hook it on the doorknob, lie on the floor, and inevitably, one of us three kids would open the door and clunk her in the head. “Mom? Can I have a snack? Oh…uh, why are you lying on the floor? Are you okay? Should I call Dad?”

“I’m exercising,” she’d hiss. “Shut the door! All the way! And don’t you dare tell your father about this!”

I don’t know. There’s something almost sweet about these devices. Someone somewhere spent all this time trying to invent something that would make life easier, make us healthier. Even if they don’t work, even if they’re scams, I can’t help feeling a little fond of the products above. Especially the Wondersauna Hot Pants. Gotta get me a pair of those bad boys, if only for sentimental reasons.

Did you ever try one of those rather dubious products? How’d it work out? Would you buy something if it meant you didn’t have to exercise any more?

One of our local radio stations was having everyone call in and give examples of bad excuses they’ve given. I have to admit that normally I like listening to music rather than to the DJs talk, but this topic kept me listening.

It also got me to remembering this horrible excuse I gave this guy in high school. We used to have a Turnabout dance every year where the girls asked the guys.

I invited one guy but then decided I wanted to ask someone else. So I told guy #1 that I’d found out that one of my friends liked him and that meant I didn’t feel right about going with him.

Naturally he asked which of my friends like him, but of course I told him I didn’t feel right about divulging that information. To this day I’m not sure if he believed me or not.

I’m at the Romance Writers of America board meeting in NYC this weekend so I won’t be able to respond to your posts until late at night….but I’d love to hear YOUR bad excuses.

From everyone that posts, I’ll draw a winner Sunday night (so check back then to see if you’ve won). What will you win? A book from my to-be-read pile…a pile that is currently out of control.

So let’s hear those bad excuses….

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I had the chance (as anyone of you who check in on my FB page know) to spend a wonderful week at a beach house on Isle of Palms SC last week as part of a writers’ retreat and hermit week.  This was the view looking at the house as I returned from one of many walks on the beach….isn’t it grand? Yes, it is! Anyway, I’ve been surprised to find that many people either coveted spending a week thusly or feared it and I was trying to figure out why anyone would feel that way. To calm the fears of anyone who thinks that spending a week with 12 women who also hear voices and see things/worlds/people who aren’t really there, I wanted to talk plainly about the good, the bad and the ugly reasons why a writers’ retreat is a good thing.

The Good — see photo above, for goshsakes!  A luxurious beach house that has 11 bedrooms, each with a private bathroom, a kitchen with 2 dishwashers, 2 ovens, 2 or was it 3 microwaves, 3 refrigerators and a table big enough for about 16 people, private and shared porches and decks, an elevator AND a heated pool — I think that covers the good part quite nicely!

The Good – etc — let me just mention local surfer dudes (with handy high-powered binoculars available), pool guys and others

walking/running/jogging on the beach at all hours. . .  And just so I don’t appear simply a shallow woman, let me post one of the most beautiful views of the week for you to enjoy.  This was the view from my porch the very first morning — sunrise at the beach.

The other good things were the company of talented writers who were also moms, wives, daughters, aunts, caretakers, business women, professionals, and darn good cooks, too. Our shared dinners were the best part of the days.

The Bad? Well, this was the only thing I could come up with — one day it rained and thundered and stormed, chasing us all inside. We were forced to sit at our computers and WRITE, darn it! The cruelty, the torment of it all!

Oh! Another bad thing was the enforced quiet during the day. That was bad because I am a social person and love to chat with others, especially others who I’ve just met and who are talented and interesting people with lots of ideas and suggestions and who have lots of experiences to share. Darn that quiet-during-the-day rule!

The Ugly? Hmmmmm. Okay without naming names or giving away too many identifying details let’s just say that writers, writing in the privacy of their rooms, not expecting to be ‘in public’ can wear some of the ugliest pieces of clothing imagineable! Of course, I was in pajama bottoms with two shirts and my old-lady sweater wrapped around me at the time and paddling around in mis-matched footie socks, so I shouldn’t really complain! I guess writers get so accustomed to writing alone that we get used to doing it in the most comfortable, skankiest clothes we have.

A word of warning here to other writers (or any woman) caught in this kind of situation — Murphy’s law applies here — I was wearing something similar to my skanky stuff while writing out on the porch, never realizing how close the path leading from the beach to the street really was… Don’t repeat my mistake — remember that if you can see them (aka surfer dudes), they CAN see you….!!

As you can probably tell, even the bad and the ugly things together aren’t bad or really ugly. The week was a fabulous break for me — the inspiration of the location, the comfort of the house, the encouraging company and the time to focus on my writing were a great treat and came just when I needed them most — I’m writing the last chapters of my book (that’s due on Monday) and I actually planned out the whole of the story while sitting on that porch.  The chance to chat with and pick the brains of some of the most talented, savviest, nicest authors in publishing right now was invaluable and helped me to broaden my perspective and open myself up to ideas I hadn’t even known about when I arrived.

So, as I go below-the-radar to finish my book this weekend, I’d like to know if you’ve ever had the chance to escape real life and live a dream for a few days? Was there something you always wanted to do that you finally got the chance to do? A place or event you always wanted to see/visit that you did? Or is there something that you always promise yourself you will do? Share it with us hear and I’ll pick 2 people from among the commentors to win a copy of one of my books. **** Yes, Terri freely acknowledges that she is woefully behind in sending out blog/chat/website prizes, but she will….soon….****

Terri even got the chance to sign her latest release, A STORM OF PLEASURE, in a store in NC on the way to the beach retreat — and to see her special promotion on the B&N Nook while there. If you have a Nook, take a look at her article “Researching in Scotland – Somebody Had to Do It!” while in any B&N store.

Visit her website at www.terribrisbin.com for more info about her books, her upcoming events and other interesting tidbits….

PS – to all those authors who spent last week with me — thanks so very much for everything! It was a pleasure to meet you or to see you again!

Hey, Karyn Gerrard,  Chey, and Mary M !!  Thanks so much for taking the time to play “Firsts” today. I loved all your answers. So… you’re ALL winners. Please drop me a line at NRobardsThompson@yahoo.com – and include your full name and snail mail address. I’ll send each of you a book and another surprise.

Recently, a friend sent me one of those “participation e-mails” that makes the rounds. It was kind of fun, and I’d love to know about some of your “Firsts”… Please play along by answering the questions and posting them below. I’ll have a special prize for one of today’s lucky posters!  

1. What was your FIRST job?

Robinson’s Department Store. I was a ‘flyer,’ who filled in where they needed me.

2. What was your FIRST car?

 A ‘70s yellow VW Bug. It had no AC and a faulty clutch that I had to keep reconnecting, but I loved it because my friends called it the “Yellow Submarine” and I finally had wheels!

3. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?

Sadly, no. I haven’t seen him in ages.

4. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?

My Dad loves to tell the story of when I was two and I upended my mother’s champagne glass when they were doing a tasting at G.H. Mumm Champagne in France. I suppose that would account for my love of bubbly!

5. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?

Mrs. Jung at Stapelton School in Joplin, Mo.

6. Where did you go on your FIRST ride in an airplane?

I can’t remember, but it was probably to France. We moved there when I was a baby. Moved to the UK and then returned to the states when I was about five or so.

7. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk?

Rodney Simpkins – we lived next door to each other. I’m sad to say I haven’t seen him in years.

8. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?

Got up, fell out of bed, I dragged a comb across my head… Oh, wait, that’s a Beatles tune. I showered, brushed my teeth, made a cup of tea and then turned on the computer.

9. FIRST tattoo?

From a crackerjack box

10. FIRST piercing?

Ears – I was probably in 6th grade or so…

11. FIRST foreign country you went to?

France

12.  When was your FIRST school detention?

I only had detention once. I’m the type who gets caught when I’m simply contemplating wrong-doing… I was a junior in high school and I skipped a class. A friend and I decided to go to the library rather than to American History. The next day when the office called me down to account for my whereabouts, stupidly, I said I’d forgotten something important and had to run home. I got double detention for “leaving campus.”  See I always get caught and the lie just made it worse!! Can you say, ‘Karma’? I never skipped again.

13. If you had one wish, what would your FIRST wish be?

To have more wishes, of course!

14. Did you marry the FIRST person who asked for your hand in marriage?

Nope.

15. What was the FIRST sport that you were involved in?

Basketball! Played it very badly when I was 14! I got elbowed in the eye and decided I was more the writerly type rather than the sporty girl.

16. What were the FIRST lessons you ever took?

Ballet… my unrequited love. I’ve always been a ballerina at heart. <sigh>

17. What is your FIRST memory?

I remember playing in the sandbox in the back yard of our house in England. Though, truthfully, I’m not sure if I actually remember it or if I’m conjuring it from old photos and stories my parents told me.

18. What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home?

Take off my jewelry! For some reason, I have to undecorate myself when I get home.

19. FIRST published book?

REINVENTING OLIVIA – 2003

20. FIRST published book to be nominated for an award?

ACCIDENTAL FATHER (July 2010) has been nominated for a Reviewers Choice for Best Special Edition by RT Book Club Magazine!! I’m pretty excited!  

Now it’s your turn! I’ll post today’s winner early tomorrow morning.

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ACCIDENTAL HEIRESS – by Nancy Robards Thompson

November 2010 – Silhouetter Special Edition

RT Book Club Magazine gives it 4 1/2 stars and says:

“A poignant story about two people who are destined for each other…”

Congratultaions to Sarah Marshall, Laurie G and Kirsten!