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Showing posts from February, 2014

Owning the Romance

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I've been reading a lot of romance lately. This is not news. What is news is that I'm finally starting to shrug the unapologetic shrug, smile the I-have-a-secret smile, and own the fact that I've become a romance reader. The part I have trouble with is the idea that I'm somehow a romance writer. I didn't invent this idea. A couple of my friends did, to explain why I needed to join them at an author signing event next month. An event filled with writers whose books I've read, whose books I want to read, and even a couple authors whose books I devoured with the kind of binge-reading frenzy normally reserved for full seasons of Homeland or Game of Thrones. Penny and Elizabeth, you know who you are. Or maybe not, and now I'm on a watch-out-for-that-one-she's-crazy list. I couldn't belong at that event. How could I possibly fit in? When I talk about my book,  Marking Time it's a YA urban fantasy, or maybe just urban fantasy without

The Coolest Event on the Planet

The Scripter Awards. Until two weeks ago I had no idea such a thing even existed. It's USC's "kick-off to the Oscars," and through the extreme generosity of friends, my husband and I are going. A couple of things. First, it's black tie. The only time I've worn long gowns is to friends' weddings (and my own), but none of those were black tie events. My friend Dawn informed us in no uncertain terms that black tie meant a to-the-floor dress and a tie-your-own-tie bow tie/tuxedo combo. Strangely, the thing I was most daunted by was learning to tie the tie. So, black tie we could do. Then we got the invitation with the RSVP card. And the intimidation factor went straight through the roof. "This is a big fu*&ing deal." My husband has a way of stating the obvious in a tone that makes me giggle. Maybe it was nerves, but I don't usually giggle when I'm nervous. I get internal flutters that I'm certain are as visible as an earthquake.