Every Picture Tells A Story...

(Part 1 of 2)


As many of you know by now (and I'll repeat myself because I love saying it just in case you don't know), I recently sold my contemporary category romance to Entangled, who will be publishing it under their Indulgence Line. I had promised myself that once I sold, I would get a professional picture taken to replace the one I've been using.


So last Thursday, I had an 11:30 appointment. All morning, I kept glancing at the clock, recalculating how long it would take me to get ready. I planned on an hour and fifteen minutes so I wouldn't have to rush. But at the exact moment I was going to quit working and start getting ready, someone from work needed dictation from me as soon as possible. Rats! So I sailed through that and still had an hour to get ready. Before I even got out of my chair, I had another request for work. Hello, people. I'm trying to get ready here for something important! Certainly a patient going to surgery can't compete with me getting my picture taken, right? (just kidding) About this time, I'm getting a bit panicky. I've got 45 minutes to be picture-worthy. I know what you're thinking. Impossible.


I'd already chosen my outfit so the hard part was out of the way. I'm in the shower shaving my legs when I think, "I'm wearing pants. Nobody's going to see my legs. And time is an issue here." So even though I've got part of one leg shaved, I abandon that concept and move on. And keeping time in mind, I figured I only had time to moisturize my arms. I'd have to do my legs later.


Finally, I'm up to the makeup part. Everyone tells me peach is "my color" so even though I don't get it, I'm going to wear peach. But I look in my makeup bag to find I have peach blush but no peach lipstick. So my second choice is to wear a bright blue shirt. I haul out the pink blush and lipstick, and while I glance at the clock every 2 seconds, I get down to business.


By the time I pull out my Maybelline Illegal Length mascara, I'm feeling the time crunch. I figure I'll just have to make up the time on the road, kind of like the airplane pilots who say they'll make up the time in the air. But then I worry that if I get pulled over for speeding, I'll really be late.


But wait! If that happens, I'll bat my long lashes at the cop and he'll let me go. Uh-oh. Images of a whole different scenario pop into my head. The highway patrol guy, hands on hips, eyes squinted, looking me right in the eye. And notices my ILLEGAL length eyelashes. I'd be in the slammer in no time and never get to my appointment. Okay, I better stay within the speed limit cause who knows the price of a ticket for illegal length eyelashes.

Come back next Tuesday for the rest of Every Picture Tells A Story...

Don't Leave Home Without It

A few weekends ago, two of my writing buddies were having a discussion after one had critiqued the other's work. Their conversation involved how many knives a knife block could hold, with one person stating that she'd never seen one that could hold more than 6 knives. Sticking my nose in Getting involved in the conversation, I pointed out that my knife block holds 15 knives and wished it was bigger to hold the overflow knives I had in my drawer.

As the conversation continued about how many knives one person really needs, I took the debate up a notch by admitting that I take some of my knives on vacation. While one person nodded in agreement like that made all the sense in the world, the other person looked at me like I had inadvertently used one of my knives to impair my brain function. To my defense, I said that we usually rented condos with full kitchens. I enjoy cooking and it's a lot cheaper than eating out every night. And ever since a bad experience with a dull serrated knife, I had the bright idea to bring a few knives with me.

After all, I explained, it's not like I'm walking through the lobby of a Marriott with my butcher knife clutched in my hand. (I swear I've never thought about doing that. Maybe.)

So here's my confession - I take some of my knives on vacation with me. Okay and maybe one small cutting board. But that's all. Except for my perfect saute pain. Oh, and a few spices.

Now my curiosity is peaked. How about you? What are your must-haves when packing for vacation?

Stop by for Fork It Up Fridays to see what recipe I'm sharing next. I don't even know yet!

Wonderful Wednesday

Hi everybody! Welcome to a special Wonderful Wednesday edition of my blog. Why is this day so wonderful? Because of the fabulous news I have to share.

I have signed a contract with Entangled Publishing for publication of my contemporary category romance through their Indulgence line, and will be working with editor Kerri-Leigh Grady. I absolutely could not be more thrilled. I am so very thankful for this incredible opportunity.

I've learned a lot this week. Dedication, hard work and perseverance pay off. And dreams really do come true!

I'll keep you posted as things progress, but couldn't wait to share this exciting news.

xoxo - Jenna

Dedication

For the last year in the quest to get published (and stay published for some), members of my local chapter of Romance Writers of America started going to prison. Yep, you heard me. The slammer. The big house. Wait! Before you run away, let me explain.

Between the demands of jobs, families, and household duties, some of the members were barely able to grab a few minutes here and there out of their hectic weeks to write. And without writing, of course, there is no chance of getting published or staying published. Ideas were brainstormed on how to find more writing time. From that, prison was born.

In its early stages, prison meant going to a member's house for the day to write. Any and all were welcome, but only for those who were serious about working. Prison would begin in the morning and continue until dinner time, usually in one hour blocks - one hour of writing followed by one hour of brainstorming or problem solving and/or eating. (We all know brains need to be nourished to produce.) This took place once/month or so. But soon it wasn't enough.

Since then, prison has evolved into meeting at a local coffee house (which shall not be named, but begins with the letter "P"). The group meets Saturday at 8:00 a.m. (no sleeping in for these dedicated writers). After an hour of talking all things books and publishing, with a few pics of someone's granddaughter thrown in and a couple of discussions about movies, etc.), the group gets down to business. If the productivity is thriving, it's not uncommon for some to stay until 2:00 in the afternoon. And guess what? Several repeat the process the next day too!

I am amazed at the dedication that these writers have in the journey of getting published and staying published. These people share their personal journeys and the ups and downs of publishing with each other. They laugh together, hug each other, and support each other. They have formed a bond beyond measure.

And I am honored to be a part of this amazing group of writers. 

So even though I sound like a TV commercial, today, my friends, I salute you for your dedication, your love of the written word, and the awesomeness of your talent.


Don't forget Fork It Up Fridays where I share a favorite recipe. Stop by Friday for...
Ha! You'll have to stop back to see what's cookin'.

The Close Call

As all romance writers know, yesterday was a big day. For those of you who aren't romance writers, here's what Monday was all about. The national chapter of Romance Writers of America holds two contests each year, the RITA's for the published author and the Golden Heart for the unpublished author. This is as important to the romance writer as the Academy Awards is to an actor. As I am yet unpublished, I entered the Golden Heart. Yesterday, RWA announced the finalists with phone calls to each. The winners are then declared at the RWA annual meeting, this year being held in July in Anaheim, California. Word was out yesterday that the phone calls would be complete by 2:00p.m.

I went about my normal morning routine yesterday, trying not to hope that I'd receive a call telling me that I had finaled in the GH. But darn it all, as the morning wore on, that hope had escalated to the point I was on pins and needles.

By 9:00 a.m., the RWA website had already begun to list the finalists. The names came sporadically. I checked Contemporary Series Romance looking for my name. Not yet. No names listed. Okay, fine, no problem. I'll carry on.

(Reader beware after this point.) I was, um, uh, okay - I was sitting on the toilet, yoga pants at my ankles, when the phone rings. Oh. My. God. Here it is, I say to myself. Here's the call I've been waiting for. I jumped up (thankfully I'd already Charminized) and ran toward the phone while trying to tug my pants up. The phone rang again. Good Lord, I don't want this to go to the answering machine because maybe there was some kind of rule that if you don't answer they'll hang up and then you're screwed.

As I'm race walking with my pants down around my ankles, I snag my little toe on the foot of the dresser and I hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. My toe is throbbing, but who cares? I'll gladly sacrifice my pinky. Heck, I've got two of them. For the love of all that is holy, I'll donate both pinky toes if I can just be a GH finalist.

On my knees with my bare butt hanging out and my pinky toe throbbing, I reach for the phone. I know what I'm going to hear. A wonderful female voice will say, "Hello, I'm calling to inform you that you've finaled in this year's Golden Heart contest." My mind jogs ahead and I start thinking OMG I've got to make airline and hotel reservations. What am I going to do with my hair. Eek! I'll need something formal to wear! But who gives a rat's butt because I'm going to be a GH Finalist!!!

I bring the receiver to my ear with a shaking hand and in my best fake, flowery, birds singing in spring voice, I say, "Hello?" There's a split second when I anticipate the first word out of this angel's mouth that I know has come straight from heaven.

But instead, what do I hear? My husband/boss says, "Hey. You know that letter you just emailed me? It's got a typo."

Huh? What? WHAT????

By 2:00 p.m. all the finalists had been named. I was not one of them. Sigh. Guess there's always next year...

I Am Not Alone

Today we're going to delve into the deep, dark world of...you guessed it...office supplies. You know what I'm talking about. You take that first step into your local office supply store and suddenly you're obsessed. You walk at a snail's pace to devour each and every aisle. Your head swirls like a spring tornado - colored paper, notebooks of every color and thickness, sticky notes (OMG they look like index cards!) and enough pens and pencils you wish you could write with your toes.

Before you start thinking, "this woman is a nut case," let me tell you about a conversation I had with my writing friends a while back.

We were sitting at a popular restaurant one Saturday morning having coffee and talking "shop." Not having enough caffeine yet, my mouth started working before my brain had a chance to catch up. I shared the adventures of my shopping trip the day before to a well known office supply chain where I had purchased colored markers, sticky labels, scratch pads, and enough index cards to build an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower. In neon.

The excitement was apparent in my tone. I described each aisle and what incredible treasures I had found. By the time I was done, I was sitting on the edge of my seat. As I took a break and gulped my Diet Pepsi (no yucky coffee for me, remember), I was anticipating that the women at my table would jump up and run screaming for the door. 

Instead, eight pairs of eyes looked at me with jealousy and awe as if I'd just been describing the most chocolaty chocolate dessert known to mankind. Huh, I thought, maybe I wasn't a whack job after all. Without any coaxing, we spent the next half hour regaling each other with our love of everything office.

I've gotta go. There's a package of sheet protectors I need to play with use for writing.

Come on. Bare your soul. I dare you.

Also, please join me for Fork It Up Fridays where I'll share a favorite recipe!

Why Read Romance?

On a recent trip to visit my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter, I spent many hours in the car traveling south. While my husband drove and my son and his college buddy listened to music in the backseat, I spent my time reading a Susan Elizabeth Phillips novel (one of my favorite authors), checking out a few "how to" writing books, and judging a contest. My son's friend asked if I read a particular male romance writer. "No," I said. "Somebody always dies at the end."

"But he's really popular. His books have been made into movies."

"Don't care. For me, I want that happily ever after."

So my son's friend asked the big question. "Why do you want to read something where you already know the ending?"

I looked at him like he was a romance idiot. "I don't know the ending," I said in defense.

"Sure you do. You already know the whole story. Guy and chick hook up. Happily ever after," he stated. "What's the point in reading the story if you know what's going to happen?"

Well that got me to thinking (argh, he was right). But only to a point. Okay, maybe I knew there would be a HEA, but I certainly didn't know how they would get there. So I began to list all the things I loved about reading a well-written romance: how the h/h meet, falling head over heels in love, discovering that total adoration for each other, how they struggle to overcome obstacles, and finding happiness together. While I travel with them on their journey, I get to escape. Lose myself in the story and take a break from my responsibilities.

The response I got from my son's friend? "Huh," he said, with a nod of his head!

How about you? What part of reading a good romance do you enjoy?

Please stop by again on Friday where I'll share a yummy recipe.