Come one, come all, and join me over at the Romantic Journey!
This new group blog features a great collection of writers, all of us on different locations on the path to publication. We hope to showcase new authors, old authors, favorite books, romance tropes, writing tips, and the occasional rant or two.
I'm in incredible company over there, so stop by and say hello.
Now, I'm a city girl at heart, even if my city isn't very big. I can't help but laugh when I see grown men wearing overalls without a hint of irony and overhear conversations on what nice portable toilet facilities they've installed this year. It's what I've come to love and expect at the apple harvest.
This year, however, the country offered several new delights I wasn't expecting. In short, I no longer think they're a bunch of clueless bumpkins. I think they're secretly a fantastic, dirty little lot.
The parking lot was (rather predictably) filled with large trucks that sported bumper stickers extolling the virtues of Republican candidates who haven't seen the inside of the White House in over twenty years. But there was also this:
Then there was the "band" (composed of two old men taking turns on a keyboard and a guitar):
Now, there wouldn't be too much to say about them if they were playing a little Johnny Cash or Rascal Flatts. However, these particular gentlemen were partial to the Killers and the Cure. You've not really lived until a man of eighty serenades you with "When You Were Young."
But it was the charming little outpost store run by a farming couple since 1982 that really took the cake. No matter where you come from or what you're seeking, they welcome everyone with open arms. And this sign:
Because out in the sticks, they don't care whether you grow tomatoes or write romance novels and are therefore hardwired to look out for inappropriate sexual innuendos: back door friends really are the best.
I love so many things about Twitter. I love the community of romance readers, writers, and aspiring writers. I love being distracted from what is all-too-often the monotony of writing. I love "meeting" new people and discovering new blogs. (I now visit Awkward Family Photos daily. Thanks Twitter.)
I also really love things like #wipfavline, which allows users to put up a 140-character line from their Work in Progress. Some of the entries are just fantastic, and it's really fun to post the things I occasionally write that make me crack up.
Unfortunately, I've since discovered that I very, very rarely write sentences of 140 characters or less. I am a pretty wordy writer to begin with, and the really good stuff needs a little build up. So of course I spend five or ten minutes trying to make it fit, failing miserably, and then, because I lost my writing groove, going to check and see if there are any new posts at Awkward Family Photos.
For example, consider this line from my (very) loosely titled contemporary romance, There Will be Trebuchets:
"The line of erections bounced joyfully underneath the ballroom lights, the synchronized slapping of balls on cock almost overpowering the music."
Or this delightful line from the same WIP:
"It was easy to live vicariously through someone who not only embraced life by the horns, but who rode it, bucking and charging like Lady Godiva through the streets of Pamplona."
These are gems, people. Gems. I need to share them with the world.
So I'm using this blog to do it. After all, that's why I have a blog now--so I can display my vanities for all the world to see.
(And if you have too many characters for Twitter, you can post your #wipfavline on my blog in the comments section. I may be vain, but I'm generous, too.)
I'd love to start off this blog with a great, witty post on the craft of writing or the progress of my romance writing career, but I've already spent about three hours too many playing with the widgets and layout of the site. That's three hours that could have been spent doing something useful, like actually writing.
So I better go do that instead.
