The Novelty Girls

There’s been a lot of talk at the Olympics about Michael Phelps surpassing Mark Spitz’s record of seven gold medals. Frankly, I’m kind of tired of it. I think he is too. Talk about pressure. Everytime he finished a great swim exhibiting guts, grit and class, the stupid media would ask him about the NEXT race. They didn’t even let him enjoy the moment.
But the media has pissed me off in several ways. I’ve been ranting about this since the opening ceremonies when Bob Costas stated that the small country of Benin should “..enjoy the opening ceremony since chances are they won’t win any medals.”
Then, every news network pounded away at how the opening ceremonies were “creepy” and sending “political messages”. Here’s my opinion.
Does China have human rights issues? Absolutely.
Is China sending the message to the rest of the world that they’re a superpower and they’re HERE? Absolutely.
Should all of that be constant fodder during Olympic coverage? No!
If our country decides to participate (and we could boycott as we have in the past) then we ought to be gracious to the country who hosts the games. Sure we have political differences with China. Hell, we have political differences with Canada. So what?
Don’t include your vicious ethnocentric politics in my Olympic experience.
And quit blathering on about how many gold medals we have versus the rest of the world. I think the media is missing the point. The Olympics are exactly what R.G. said they were. They’re the story of Kristy Coventry who represented the country of Zimbabwe. A small country in turmoil and poverty who pinned their hopes on one swimmer for a small victory on a world stage. Or Lopez Lamong, who carried the U.S. flag. He was kidnapped from his Sudanese parents but once paid to watch a black and white t.v broadcast of the 2000 Olympics. He watched Michael Johnson run and a dream was born. No matter where he places in the 1500 meter race, he is a hero to come as far as he has.
No matter what country, or what circumstances, or what race, all of these athletes are the best of the best. They have to reach a minimum standard that is more than any of us could ever reach.
So perhaps, those athletes from Benin are bigger heroes than anyone just watching the competition. Perhaps they are already golden.
After all, no matter how many medals are won or how many records are broken, every one of them can say “I was in the Olympics. I had a shot at Gold.”

One of the things I love about the romance genre is the happily ever after at the end of a book. In books, movies and television, I like my happy endings. It’s ENTERTAINMENT. Not reality. In Real Life, we are all aware that some people may work for us, and some definitely will NOT work for us.
There’s no “Scent signature” like in werewolf books.
Or fated matings as in Vampire books.
And certainly no genetic manipulations to create couples as in Christine Feehan’s “Game” series.
Finding Mr. Right isn’t a destination, in my opinion. It’s a journey.
Without Mr. Wrong, I wouldn’t have met the Redneck.
Without Mr. Right Now, I wouldn’t have given the Redneck the time of day.
Without all of my vast errors in judgment, humiliating mistakes and brick walls, I would not have found the man beneath the concrete dust.
When I write, I don’t pretend my characters are “fated”. I do contend that it’s the whole person who falls in love, not just their pink parts. Conflict is a necessary part of the human experience and it makes those harmonious times so much more wonderful.
I bemoan that the Redneck works out of town five days a week, but I MISS him. I miss him so much that when he comes home…….Okay Crystal, I’ll stop now.
It’s a struggle to do our life the way we do. But it’s the struggle that strengthens us, brings us closer, makes us more tolerant.
This week, I’ll be heading in for surgery. It’s not a crisis, but it hasn’t been an easy time. And I was surprised to find the Redneck was freaking out about this thing I thought was “no big deal’. It reminds me that he really does love me and it’s not for my questionable housekeeping skills or my UNquestionable bedroom skills. He’d MISS me.
I love the Redneck. He’s a hard working, often ranting, egotistical, sweet poet who will always surprise me with his contradictions and amaze me with his intelligence. But I couldn’t have had all that without the many mistakes-big and small-that preceded him. His timing was perfect and he truly is my Mr. Right.
Do I think there is one right man for one woman? Not really. But I do believe that there are those who are better together than they are apart.
And it’s the reason I write romance. I believe in the journey to finding that person that will enhance life. I believe in that connection that transcends fear, resentment, anger and distrust. It’s there. And romance is all about the road to find it.

In three more days, I’ll be hanging out with other authors and showing off my mad skilz as a pitcher. No, not baseball, books.
We’ll see if I can catch the attention of an editor or agent. But best of all, I’ll get to finally meet some of the other Novelty Girls in person. Wish me luck.

With that in mind, I give you this.

So far, everyone has mentioned some of my favorite time wasters–Romance Divas, YouTube, The Movie Data Base. I can add a couple of more like Amazon.com, Blog Things, and IStock Photo.
But to be a true procrastinator, a talented time waster, it takes a very keen sense of avoidance and the ability to use ANYTHING to waste time.
In other words, when I’m supposed to be working on my pitch for the RWA Conference that starts in ten days, I’ll work on my work in progress, “Regaining Command” (the third in my “Command Series).

When I’m supposed to be promoting my upcoming book “Edge of the Storm” (sequel to “Heart of the Storm” coming out the first week in August) I’ll mess around with book trailers.
The trick to time wasting is to make it LOOK as if it applies to my career, but it’s not what I’m supposed to do. Luckily, I have author friends who call me on it (*cough* Lori *cough*) and remind me to “get ‘er done”.
Am I really the only one who does this?

I thought to show my eclectic reading habits, I’d give you a ride through time as I learned to appreciate books.

Whinnie The Pooh

When I was little, my dad would read these stories to me.  Somehow, he captured all the whimsy in the characters and I’ve loved Pooh ever since.

Dune by Frank Herbert

At around thirteen, two books influenced all future reading for me.  The first huge impact was “Dune”.  I still reread this book whenever the mood strikes me.

Sword Of Shannara by Terry Brooks

This was my first real journey fantasy.  I reread it over and over taking in the details, the characterizations, the plot.  It had a massive influence over a lot of my taste later on.

But nothing changed my life quite the way “Death In A White Tie” by Ngaio Marsh did.

For many years, my father tried to get me to read Marsh mysteries.  Content with my Harlequin romances and Agatha Christie’s, I refused often driving him to distraction as I used his books as a dust collector.

But one day, at about fourteen or fifteen, I finally broke down and read this one.  I FELL IN LOVE.  I devoured every Ngaio Marsh I could get my mitts on and still have them all.  Though Christie entertained me, Ngaio Marsh uplifted me.  From then on, I read mysteries.   Lots of mysteries.

And one of the mysteries that changed my reading habits forever was “Gaudy Night” by Dorothy L. Sayers.

No one had more influence on my reading and writing than this author, another one of my father’s favorites and now one of mine.  Because of this book, I read John Donne poetry and other works of classic literature that Sayers quotes here.  Her depiction of a mystery writer struggling to solve a crime is so unique and, believe it or not, it’s not bloody or violent.  I reread this book every year when it’s rainy and grey outside.

For the next two decades, I read mysteries, suspense, detective stories and romance took a back seat.  I attempted to write a “good mystery” and never finished a story.  Life got busy and reading became an escape and very random.  At any given moment, I could be reading Elizabeth Peters, Robert Heinlen, Iris Johanson, Anne McCaffery or Julie Garwood.  But then, one author and two series sparked a love of romance that coincided with my decision to write seriously.

The Three Sisters Island Trilogy

This was a trilogy I discovered when I got really desperate for something to read at my mom’s house.  I was pregnant, tired and wanted something “easy” to read.  Instead, I was captivated by Robert’s characters, her sexual tension and her awesome story.

That led me to finding the “Night Tales” collection at Costco.  Once I discovered La Nora, I was hooked.  I devoured a lot of her books–some I liked some I didn’t.

I went on to read one of my favorite series books, The Donovan Series by Elizabeth Lowell.

I love the classics too–Jane Austen especially–and I have a weird nonfiction habit which involves reading Winston Churchill’s “Birth of Britain” series (five volumes) and Barbara Tuchman.

But for the most part, I love my romance.

I was happily content reading and writing romantic suspense, paranormal romance and fantasy romance.  And then, I discovered Erotic Romance and life was never quite the same.  And the Redneck is VERY grateful.

My first Erotic Romance was a happy accident.  Romance Divas needed a reviewer and I wanted to give it a go.  My first review was “Stolen Goddess” by Tawny Taylor.

This book was SO AWESOME!!!!!!!  It led me into an entirely new world of erotic stories with romance and a happy ending.  *Happy sigh*

But the book that began my journey into WRITING erotic romance was one of the best romances I’ve ever read.

“Natural Law” by Joey W. Hill

Since I’ve begun writing there have been several books that I’ve fallen in love with by my favorite authors.

“Go Between” by Dayna Hart.

“Full Swing” by Crystal Jordan.

“Bound By Love” by Loribelle Hunt.

“Paul’s Dream” by Rowan McBride.

Anything by Eden Bradley.

There is a whole universe of books out there that I’ve had a chance to read because I began a career in writing.

Now, I’m still likely to read a mystery or suspense, but I’ve added so many more genres to my collection and so many authors.   Ahhh so many books, so little time.

I’m on vacation……with my mother…..and my two kids…..in a car.

Do I have to address body issues and how I got them?  No. Way.

But it’s interesting the way things turned out.  I’m a big chested woman.  Most men love my tits.  Well, it’s TRUE.  My husband?  He’s an ass man.  I have no ass to speak of.  LOL.  He’s become fond of my big tits but he LOVED my ass when I was pregnant.

Me, I think my best feature is my eyes.  I have blue eyes that twinkle when I laugh.  My problem is most men don’t get “up” to my eyes.

I’m a big woman who has topped two hundred pounds often.  But I’ve learned that I don’t have to obsess about it.

In my most recent release “Resisting Command”, DNA manipulation plays a big part in the plot.  It began with an idea.

What if there was a “genetic war” where two alien species vied for dominance through genetic manipulation?  What if humans had been space travelers long before the twentieth century and spawned a whole new race of people that look NOTHING like humans?

My newest hero,  who is featured in the book I’m working on now, has been genetically changed through DNA manipulation.  He wants to be part of this alien race and rejects his human origins.  It’s dangerous and almost gets him killed.  Ultimately, he must face the truth.  That he allowed himself to be used by an alien to avoid facing his reality.

To me, genetic splicing is all about control.  We genetically change our food to feed more.  We genetically enhance our animals-through natural selection or in the lab, the results are the same.  Look what we’ve done with dog breeding?  The idea that we can use a lab to “make life easier” has its good points and its dangers.

In a way, I agree with Dayna.  We are arrogant.  We often find new ways to interfere with nature, but we rarely know the consequences.  But then, the strides we’ve made against disease and hunger are truly amazing and essential to our survival.

As with everything else, it’s a balance.  In my books, I can explore the “what ifs” with the only long suffering being my characters.  Real life scientists explore them with much larger implication.

All in all, I sometimes wonder if we know what we’re doing.  I always think of the Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.”  We certainly do.

To kick off our new theme for The Novelty Girls, I’d like to tell you a story.

When my Dad was in the Marine Corps, he was a tough Drill Instructor in Texas training men to face the rigors of combat.

New recruits were tormented then much more than they are now and Dad would line them up and ask them, “Where are you from, soldier?”

They’d answer “Juneau, Alaska, Sir.”

My Dad would say “No, you’re not, soldier. You’re from Juneau, Texas and don’t you forget it!”.

“Yes, sir.”

After six weeks of torture training, they were ready to be shipped out. On one occasion, however, a rare visit from a general ended this practice and ripped some stripes from my father’s shoulder.

The general inspected the troops and asked the usual question. “Where are you from, boy?”

“Raleigh, Texas, sir.”

The general gave him a quizzical look and moved to the next soldier.

“And you? Where are you from?”

“Seattle, Texas, sir.”

Now my Dad was beginning to worry as the general shot a glare at him. He stepped to the next boy and shook his hand. “And where do you call home?”

“Atlanta, Texas, sir.”

Apparently, this was the last straw. Maybe the general was from Georgia. Dad never knew. “Atlanta? I thought it was in Georgia.”

“It is, sir.” The man began to sweat.

“Then why did you say it was in Texas?”

“The sergeant said every city is in Texas, sir.”

The general was highly offended. “He did, did he? And what about Washington D. C.? Does he believe the capital is in Texas as well?”

The poor soldier glanced at my father and swallowed nervously. “No, sir.” He croaked.

“No? Then where is Washington D.C?”

The boy cleared his throat. “China, sir.”

Yeah. My Dad didn’t go up the ranks in the corps.

In 2002, I lost my Dad, but I always remember that story and when people ask where I’m from I always want to answer “Fortuna, Texas.”

Happy Father’s Day.