The Post Vacation Report
Back home in New York! Yay! And supposed to be back to work. In our last episode, The Mad Romance Writer was considering writing for Desire. After further ponderous moments full of angst and confusion, I reneged on my own decision and decided I'm going to move to Blaze (that's the current plan, and in case you haven't learned this about me by now, it's subject to change at any moment). I had a long (actually, it wasn't really that long, but in my head it seemed like I'd been sweating it forever) talk with my editor and she was so great about it that I realized I'd been paranoiding myself. According to my spell-check, paranoiding is not a word, but I think it should be, so I'll use it. I told her, "I think I want to write for Blaze." And she said, "OK." And that was the entire conversation. We writers thrive on conflict, even within our own brains. It really gets scary sometimes.
The RWA conference was a blast. And it's interesting to see how times have changed. About three years ago, if you said the word "paranormal" editors would have held up the sign of the cross and said, "Back!" Now then, every single publisher spotlight had the editors begging for paranormals. Hot, hunky, heroes, preferably those that are dead or some sort of animal. Even Pocket (my house), one of the more mainstream houses, was asking for a "sexy werewolf." Wow. I say, "Wow." Which just goes to show what happens when heroes who are either dead or possessed hit the New York Times list. I'm thinking about rewriting The Omen as a romance with Damien as the hero. Okay, maybe not.
And a cool war story (not a writing war story, but an actual war war story). We were leaving the DFW airport to fly out to Cozumel and there was a large troop of soldiers who were being shipped to Germany flying out of the next gate. I had large degrees of guilt as I was flying off to a tropical paradise and these wonderful guys were flying off to a desert hell. Anyway, as we walked to our gate, there was an older man dressed in a Sunday suit, standing there to see them off. I saw the ears and heard the voice, and realized, that yes, the man was Ross Perot. If I had been able to say anything to him without choking up, I would have, but I chickened out. There was no press around, or big crowds, just Ross dressed in a suit, shaking hands and smiling to the soldiers.
Sometimes I really love this country.
The RWA conference was a blast. And it's interesting to see how times have changed. About three years ago, if you said the word "paranormal" editors would have held up the sign of the cross and said, "Back!" Now then, every single publisher spotlight had the editors begging for paranormals. Hot, hunky, heroes, preferably those that are dead or some sort of animal. Even Pocket (my house), one of the more mainstream houses, was asking for a "sexy werewolf." Wow. I say, "Wow." Which just goes to show what happens when heroes who are either dead or possessed hit the New York Times list. I'm thinking about rewriting The Omen as a romance with Damien as the hero. Okay, maybe not.
And a cool war story (not a writing war story, but an actual war war story). We were leaving the DFW airport to fly out to Cozumel and there was a large troop of soldiers who were being shipped to Germany flying out of the next gate. I had large degrees of guilt as I was flying off to a tropical paradise and these wonderful guys were flying off to a desert hell. Anyway, as we walked to our gate, there was an older man dressed in a Sunday suit, standing there to see them off. I saw the ears and heard the voice, and realized, that yes, the man was Ross Perot. If I had been able to say anything to him without choking up, I would have, but I chickened out. There was no press around, or big crowds, just Ross dressed in a suit, shaking hands and smiling to the soldiers.
Sometimes I really love this country.
posted by Kathleen at 9:23 PM
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