This weekend at a party, I met a potential new reader who wanted a business card or bookmark or something to take away with her. Sadly, I had none of that on me. In my bag, I had a cell phone, a wallet, a single fuzzy glove and a box of Crayola Glitter Crayons. Ah, the life of a mother. It’s not a glamorous life. The other people at the party (mostly men, and professorial types at that) politely pretended this was normal.

Someone pulled out their own business card and I was able to jot my info down on the back so that potential new reader would be able to keep in touch (and hopefully read all my books and post glowing reviews on Amazon. We writers love those.) But still, I was embarrassed. I had no bookmarks, but I had a single aqua glove?

There is no dignity in motherhood. I’ve been saying this for years, but it seems especially true this weekend. But, on the other hand, I’ve done worse things. I’ve done stupider things. Once I spent the entire day out shopping and at the end of the day, someone stopped to tell me my shirt was inside out. The bad thing was, I thought she was going to tell me my shirt was ripped. I knew it was ripped and wore it anything. No dignity, man. None at all. Generally, I’m okay with that, but every once in a while, that lack of dignity butts heads with my professionalism. Those are the moments I wish I could come off as the glamorous romance writer. And I never do.

If you share your most embarassing moment as a mother, I’ll pick on person to receive an early copy of my July release, The Tycoon’s Temporary Baby.

I have a 24 year-old nephew who is a Green Beret. I don’t know where he is at the moment, and neither does his young wife, or my sister – his mom, or his dad. All we know is that he’s following orders, and hopefully, his actions will contribute to the cause we’re fighting for somewhere in the world.

My cousin has a 24 year-old son in the Marines. In January, this young man returned home from a tour in Afghanistan with only half his unit. One of them was female – and he said she was the toughest, smartest, and most agile of them all. Gone.

Today, all over America, appreciative fellow citizens will be placing flowers on the graves of loved ones who died during military service. Whether or not I believed in the “rightness” of any of these wars, I grieve the loss of these mostly young lives. I think of their parents, siblings, and loved ones and wonder how they manage to survive their loss.

What a world, right?

If you’re out and about today, remember the little poem written by Moina Belle Michael the “Poppy Lady.”

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

In the past I did a pretty good job of keeping track of time. Of course, it helped that I worked Monday through Friday and wrote on the weekends and at night. What I’m trying to say is that my life was fairly regimented.

Now that I no longer work at a day job, the order has vanished from my life. I did bring a little pocket calendar that fits very nicely into my purse, but it doesn’t start until JULY! Yikes.

Then this past week I went to Florida for a plotting retreat with fellow Jaunty Nancy Robards Thompson and Kathleen O’Brien, a Harlequin Super Romance author. We had a fabulous time and the days blurred together. I was supposed to fly back on Friday but American Airlines, because of some issues with damaged planes (due to the recent storms) cancelled my flight and I couldn’t fly back until Saturday. Are you confused? I sure was…if I didn’t know what day it was before, I sure didn’t know now.

That is my explanation on why this post is late. It is also a request for how you keep yourself oriented to the current date and what you have going on? Do you use Google calendar online? Do you use the calendar on your phone? What works best for you?

I’d really appreciate the help!

Jaunty P. Quills would be proud, I think. A fellow mammal from the order Rodentia
figures prominently in my publication story. Of course, he’s nowhere near as suave
or sophisticated as our perfect prickly one—in fact, he’s stuffed. But still, a rodent is a
rodent!

The year, 2007. The place, Romance Writers of America National conference in Dallas,
Texas. The Random House party was in full swing. Beautiful location, amazing authors,
agents, editors, and, um, me. I was a dear friend’s +1—in other words, just thankful to
be there, thank you very much. I mingled. I ate canapés. And drank a few glasses of
splendid wine. I wasn’t looking for an agent. Not really. I’d started a historical and was
having so much fun with it, but hadn’t a clue where it was going to take me.

And then my friend introduced me to Jennifer Schober, an agent with Spencerhill
Associates. It was like meeting up with a dear college friend after years spent apart—
easy, entertaining, and flat-out fun. We talked and talked as the party carried on around
us, the highlight of the evening most definitely coming when Jenn told me her infamous
beaver story. I cannot share it here—I simply wouldn’t do it justice. And you have Jenn’s
permission to ask after the beaver story should you ever run into her. But suffice it to
say, it’s hysterical. Like shoot wine out of your nose hysterical.

Though if anyone ever asks, no, I have not, nor will I ever, shoot wine out of my nose.
At least not on purpose.

Like Cinderella and that blasted clock, suddenly it was time to go. Jenn and I
exchanged cards and I promised to send along some pages once they were polished.

Flash forward to January 31, 2008. No polished pages had been sent. I know. Crazy.
Only made more crazy by my uncanny ability to assume the worst. How could I send
anything at that point? Surely she’d forgotten all about me. And even if she did vaguely
recall the woman with the wine at the Random House party, the passing of a ridiculously
long period of time between when she’d so nicely asked to see the pages and now
would make her wish she had.

I sat, paralyzed, in front of my computer and polished. And polished. Then polished
some more, though I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to send the pages along no
matter if they’d been anointed by the tears of Nora Roberts and Jane Austen combined.

“You’ve got mail.” Ok, my email program doesn’t talk, but it does bing, and did so on
that very day. A new Viagra offer? Big sale at Macy’s? Perfect. Just perfect. But it
wasn’t either of those things. It was Jenn, wondering where the heck those pages had
gotten to, and offering to take a look should I ever manage to get off my bum and send
them along.

Suddenly, and with intense certainty, I knew where I wanted my historical to go, and I’d
figured out just who I needed along for the ride. After all, wine-shooting, canapé surely
stuck in my teeth at some point, and a looong time, no see, and she was still interested?
Add in our instant connection and it was a match made in heaven. By a beaver.

I finally conquered my fear and mailed of a partial. Jenn offered representation within a
week of receiving the pages and we sold the first three books in my Regency Rogues
series by Thanksgiving of that same year. The Devil in Disguise, book one in the series,
just hit the shelves a few days ago.

The moral? Sometimes, if you peer past the canapés and wine, you’ll find what you
were always looking for but never even knew you wanted. Life’s funny that way.

How about you? Have you ever wandered into a situation with no expectations only to
walk out with something amazing? Tell me about it, and you’ll automatically be entered
to win a signed copy of The Devil in Disguise.

Next month most of the Jaunties are attending the Romance Writers of America’s National Conference in New York City. It’s a lot of work and a lot of fun, and a time to catch up with old friends and make new ones. We Jaunties always meet up for dinner, drinks, and conversation. We chat about this blog, of course, and our books, but we also talk about our lives and families.

But the conference isn’t all luncheons and limo rides—though there is some of that! There are workshops and meetings with agents, editors, publicists, readers…the list goes on and on. I plan to arrive a day early so I can enjoy the city a little. It’s been 7 or 8 years since I was last in New York.

I already have tickets to see Wicked, but I don’t have any other plans as yet. Any must-sees in New York? Anything you would definitely see if you were going?

Margo Maguire added a new section to her website – Helpful tips for Writers. Check it out!

I used to be in choir when I was in high school and in college and the first time I sang that song I fell in love with it. It would have been nice if I’d heard it prior to singing it, but really that was a mixed blessing because if I’d heard the original in all its soulful beauty I’d have known we were bound to fail to live up to it, but I didn’t know about it, and thankfully our version was pretty darn good!

In writing I think I’ve had the same experience. When I wrote my first book I had no idea what I didn’t know and blissfully wrote a story that involved the things I liked in books. Some suspense (with an obvious bad guy), great clothes for my heroine, and hot sex with the hero! That first book was so easy to write. I guess my writing voice was dying to get out and I produced 30 pages a week easily.

But there was so much I didn’t know. Like question marks which I slighted and never used. Can you imagine? One of my critique partners flat-out asked me what’s your deal, why do you hate question marks?

I learned so much from that book and I was hooked on writing. After that I knew I had to keep writing because I loved it so much. And each new manuscript I produced made me learn more. But I never felt inadequate to the task and two manuscripts after my first attempt I made a sale.

I still think there is a lot I don’t know about writing but I also get really close sometimes to something beautiful and I’m so thankful for the journey each book sets me on.

Have you ever done that? Tried something without realizing how much you didn’t know?

One night last summer, I was lying on the living room floor, waiting for the Yankees to win so I could go to bed, when all of a sudden, I heard the screech of brakes and a crash. “A crash!” I exclaimed. Was I perhaps inappropriately thrilled? Yes. I was. See, I could tell from years of living in the same place that the driver wasn’t going fast enough to get seriously hurt—this was more of a “car in the ditch” scenario, rather than “I’ve sliced my arm off” deal.

And you know…maybe I could be a hero! Right? I leaped for the phone, called 911. “There was a crash! Probably someone drinking, happens way too much, as I ‘m sure I don’t have to tell you…oh, the Yankees just scored, yay! Anyway, should I do anything?”

“No, ma’am, please remain in your home,” was the answer. But come on. My husband’s a firefighter (and fortunately, he was at the firehouse that night…different town from where we live…so he couldn’t steal my glory). Stay in my house? Hardly. What if the guy (I knew he was a guy because even from my house, I could hear him swearing)…what if the guy was bleeding out? I could apply a tourniquet! And so, clad in my aqua blue with white polka dot pajama bottoms and pink Derek Jeter t-shirt, I grabbed our first aid kit and ran to the bottom of the driveway, ready to save a life, baby.

Alas, the volunteer fire department was already there! So unfair! I mean, there’s good response time, and then there’s showing off. Now, I know many of the good people on the volunteer fire department, and I didn’t want any of them to see me in my jammies. So I did what any normal person would do. I hid. Because I wasn’t going to miss this exciting event, no sir. The lights flashed on the myriad trucks, I could hear the radios and the deep purr of the engines, and in the distance, the wail of a police car. I sat behind a rock and spied. The guy wasn’t bleeding out. No traumatic amputations.

After ten minutes when the most exciting thing to happen was the arrival of the tow truck, I trudged back up to see how the Yanks were doing. A short time later, what to my wondering eyes did appear but a state trooper! “Hi,” I said, and oh, my Lord, this man was handsome! And young! And handsome! “Come on in, officer.”

I know. It sounds like a…well, never mind. There was I, polka dotted pjs, glasses, hair sticking up erratically…and there was he, outfitted with gun (gun!), Taser, hand cuffs (!!!), radio, maybe a chisel or who knows what. “I need to take your statement,” he said. “Since you called 911.”

“Oh, yes, officer, I always cooperate with the law,” I said. “I’m a romance writer. Isn’t that…coincidental?”

Like most state troopers, he didn’t seem to have a sense of humor; just gave me an assessing look and sighed. Another one, I could just about hear him thinking. “A cop was the hero of my first book,” I went on.

“So what time did you hear the crash?”

“Bottom of the 8^th, two outs. About 10:47. I have this weird ability to tell the time, even without a clock. Cool, huh? Are you a Yankees fan?”

“And what did you hear exactly?”

I mimicked the screeching brakes and crash.

“Could you use words to describe that, ma’am?”

Dang it. I was a ma’am. “I heard screeching brakes and a crash. And then some swearing.”

Five minutes later, he was finished with his paperwork. “Thank you!” I called as he got into his car. “This was so interesting! I’ll probably use it in a book! Or blog about it! Bye! Take care! Be safe!”

I haven’t seen that officer again, though this is a small town. He may have put in for a transfer.

For those of you currently in a book club, correct me if I’m wrong, but you usually all read the same book and discuss it. Right?

Well, this week I’d like to do it a little differently. In Cindy’s Book Club we each share what we’ve been reading. Now if what you’ve read isn’t something you particularly enjoyed…then you tell everyone about the last book you read that you liked. I’d also be interested to know if you read using an e-reader or not.

I actually read three books in the past week…all paperbacks. And all three were ones that I’d read before! I know…I know…with a To-Be-Read pile that’s out of control, what kind of person reads books they’ve read before? The answer–ME!

The first one I read, er re-read was Mary Balogh’s At Last Comes Love. I loved this book the first time and just as much the second. Mary Balogh does a great job with her characters and plotting.

The second one I re-read was my own book–When She Was Bad. Don’t ask me why…I was just in the mood. And yes, I love this book. Jenny the heroine is such a nice person and Robert is the kind of man every woman dreams of finding.

The third book was A Woman of the People….an oldie but a goodie. I read it initially when I was in Junior High. It’s about a woman who was captured by the Comanches….not only historically accurate but a great story! The reason I pulled this one from my keeper shelf was because my daughter brought it up and said she’d told her husband he should read it. Did I give him my copy? No, I simply read it again myself…and ordered him his own copy from Amazon, but shhhhh, that’s a secret.

So, tell me….what book can you recommend to me? And hey, if I’ve already read it…no worries….I’ll simply read it again.

Kristan Higgins was just offered a four-book deal from HQN Books/Harlequin Enterprises! In addition, Kristan will soon be seeing her books in German and Japanese, as well as Down Under in Australia.