Cara/Andrea here,
Today I’m handing the pen over to my friend Pam Rosenthal, who had kindly consented to pull up a chair at the Wench desk and write a few words about . . . well, writing, and some of the thought processes that go into creating a story. As many of you know, Pam is the award-winning author of The Edge of Impropriety, which won the 2009 RITA for Regency Romance. In addition, The Slightest Provocation was a RITA finalist in 2007 and was just released this month in a new mass market edition. A lifelong lover of literature (she claims that her mother was wheeled into the delivery room reading a romance novel!) Pam can list an impressive array of professional accomplishments in the field, including bookseller, critic, essayist and, of course, novelist of richly complex emotional stories with an erotic edge.
And now, without further ado, I shall nudge the inkwell over to Pam . . .
It’s particularly an honor and a pleasure because I believe that romance is the genre of second chances at happiness and all good things. Which for The Slightest Provocation is true on a good many levels, beginning way back with the story’s difficult conception. Because as I began to write it, I was beginning to suspect there was something about its opening scenes that just wasn’t making it. And yet I didn’t want to toss out those the meeting of hero and heroine during a brief erotic fling at a Calais inn, before their separate arrivals in England where the spy story commences and flings them back together.
I’d enjoyed writing that initial coupling. And even now, in print, the mutual seduction over a late supper of very good country French food survives largely unchanged. As does a large part of the subsequent erotic scene, which I felt succeeded in many ways: I liked my hero Kit and my heroine Mary; I believed in how they spoke to each other as they climbed the staircase to her room, and how they teased and touched after they got there.
And yet something didn’t jell. I kept telling myself that a high level of fortuitous intimacy is perfectly possible between strangers, that our bodies can sometimes be the wisest part of us. And it wasn’t as though I hadn’t enjoyed writing their actual moves: putting it in Regency-speak, I’d enjoyed it quite excessively. But something in the emotional interaction of the characters kept me from entirely believing it.
I was stuck, and so I held that part in abeyance and turned back to the political setting – a dark one, because this book takes place during the difficult years after Waterloo, when the British Home Office secretly sent provocateurs among its people, to fan the flames of local rebellion in order to scapegoat rebels, suppress dissension, and encourage Parliament to once again suspend habeus corpus. A nation at odds with itself, like a marriage on the verge of…That’s it, I thought.
“My hero and heroine are married,” I announced excitedly to my husband, who’d been sharing the political research as well as consoling me in my doldrums.
“Married and separated,” I continued, “and I was the last to know. But that’s why they’re not only physically compatible but so completely onto each other’s flaws, weaknesses, and moments of delusion and dishonesty.”
My imagination was picking up steam.
“They eloped,” I added, “when they were too young and dumb to understand the difficulties facing them. Nine years have passed since their legal separation. Kit’s gone to war and fought heroically under Wellington while Mary’s pursued a life among romantic poets and radical freethinkers. They’ve become different people, some ways, but they’ve never let go of their passionate attraction — or faced their differences or worked though the pain they caused each other.”
To which Michael, my highly literate husband, nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re writing a remarriage comedy,” he said.
Whereupon, as a lifelong bookseller by trade, Michael did what he does best: by way of an answer, he handed me the very book I needed at that moment. Which was not E.P. Thompson’s enormously dense The Making of the English Working Class, with its wealth of information about machine-breaking in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire, petitions to extend suffrage, marches of the dispossessed. We’d spent enough time poring over that one already. This book was a set of essays, The Pursuit of Happiness, by the philosopher and film scholar Stanley Cavell, about those witty, wonderful black and white films of the thirties and forties like The Philadelphia Story, Adam’s Rib, His Girl Friday I— films about estranged couples and their reconciliations, replete with rough, comic strife, delicious banter and (when it’s Cary Grant as the male lead) some of the most elegantly executed pratfalls ever filmed.
Created during the supposedly quiescent decades between the suffrage movement and second wave feminism, according to Cavell these movies are the most eloquent cultural statement we have from that period, of men and women working toward erotic equality. I don’t know if I entirely buy his analysis. But I love the movies, and many of his points are brilliant – and clearly apposite to what I had in mind. As when Michael opened the book to read aloud from an early chapter about the couples (like Dex and Tracy in The Philadelphia Story) “having shared childhood together… discovered their sexuality together…”
“How did Stanley Cavell know,” I asked, “about my characters Mary and Kit?”
I read the book through, happily concluded that I was indeed writing a remarriage comedy, and grinned as the planning, the research, and the writing itself began to go more smoothly. My characters’ struggle to redeem their marriage and reconcile their differences fell into line with the spy plot, which I’d taken from the true story of the Pentrich Rebellion, an abortive uprising instigated in 1817 by a Home Office agent known as Oliver the Spy. I even planned a pratfall for my hero.
And what fun to write a romance about a squabbling husband and wife while squabbling with my own husband over it.
I sulked. Why couldn’t Michael have asked directions, I thought, when he’d had the chance? Why can’t men ever… but at that moment I cheered up, because I suddenly knew how my reunited couple had managed to run into the gang of would-be rebels on the night before the incident. They’d gotten lost, I thought, just as we had, because when Kit had had his chance to ask directions, of course he hadn’t done so either.
The man works for me, Sidmouth said, and signed his name.
A smoking gun, Michael whispered, and the distance between us and the events of two centuries before began to dissolve.
And if you don’t, is there a way that you enjoy the very privacy of the pleasure?
Pam will be giving away a copy of her new mass market re-release of The Slightest Provocation to one lucky person, whose name shall be chosen at random from those who leave a comment here between now and Monday morning.
And now, without further ado, I shall nudge the inkwell over to Pam . . .
Thanks so much to the Wenches for hosting me on the occasion of the recent mass-market reissue of The Slightest Provocation with its new cover look and consequent chance for a second generation of readers.
I’d enjoyed writing that initial coupling. And even now, in print, the mutual seduction over a late supper of very good country French food survives largely unchanged. As does a large part of the subsequent erotic scene, which I felt succeeded in many ways: I liked my hero Kit and my heroine Mary; I believed in how they spoke to each other as they climbed the staircase to her room, and how they teased and touched after they got there.
And yet something didn’t jell. I kept telling myself that a high level of fortuitous intimacy is perfectly possible between strangers, that our bodies can sometimes be the wisest part of us. And it wasn’t as though I hadn’t enjoyed writing their actual moves: putting it in Regency-speak, I’d enjoyed it quite excessively. But something in the emotional interaction of the characters kept me from entirely believing it.
“My hero and heroine are married,” I announced excitedly to my husband, who’d been sharing the political research as well as consoling me in my doldrums.
“Married and separated,” I continued, “and I was the last to know. But that’s why they’re not only physically compatible but so completely onto each other’s flaws, weaknesses, and moments of delusion and dishonesty.”
My imagination was picking up steam.
“They eloped,” I added, “when they were too young and dumb to understand the difficulties facing them. Nine years have passed since their legal separation. Kit’s gone to war and fought heroically under Wellington while Mary’s pursued a life among romantic poets and radical freethinkers. They’ve become different people, some ways, but they’ve never let go of their passionate attraction — or faced their differences or worked though the pain they caused each other.”
To which Michael, my highly literate husband, nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re writing a remarriage comedy,” he said.
“I am?” I asked. “What’s that?”
“How did Stanley Cavell know,” I asked, “about my characters Mary and Kit?”
I read the book through, happily concluded that I was indeed writing a remarriage comedy, and grinned as the planning, the research, and the writing itself began to go more smoothly. My characters’ struggle to redeem their marriage and reconcile their differences fell into line with the spy plot, which I’d taken from the true story of the Pentrich Rebellion, an abortive uprising instigated in 1817 by a Home Office agent known as Oliver the Spy. I even planned a pratfall for my hero.
And what fun to write a romance about a squabbling husband and wife while squabbling with my own husband over it.
We researched and squabbled our way over to England, having our best vacation ever in the gorgeous Peak district of Derbyshire, near the part of Nottinghamshire where the Pentrich incident took place. We hiked the forests and meadows where I’d imagined Mary and Kit meeting as children and tramped over paths where the Pentrich rebels would have gone.
I sulked. Why couldn’t Michael have asked directions, I thought, when he’d had the chance? Why can’t men ever… but at that moment I cheered up, because I suddenly knew how my reunited couple had managed to run into the gang of would-be rebels on the night before the incident. They’d gotten lost, I thought, just as we had, because when Kit had had his chance to ask directions, of course he hadn’t done so either.
Back on track and now back in London (and well-fed on the best Lebanese and Indian food we’d ever had) we picked up the Pentrich paper trail at the National Archives at Kew. And it was only after we got the boxes of microfiche we needed and learned how to thread the spools into our neighboring microfiche readers that we confessed to each other that we were terrified we wouldn’t be able to decipher the handwriting in the letters between the Home Office agents and their spies and provocateurs.
Never fear, we managed it. (Though if you go on such a document quest, I suggest you give yourself two days. We had only one day with the documents, and I’m sure we would have done better if we’d returned the next day with eyes a little bit accustomed to the vagaries of period handwriting.) Still, the words – and the facts of the case – leaped out at us. Michael even found a letter with a marginal note from Home Office Secretary Lord Sidmouth, telling a local official (who wanted to arrest Oliver as a rabble-rouser) to leave him alone.The man works for me, Sidmouth said, and signed his name.
As I hope, in some very small way, that the centuries will dissolve for what new readers The Slightest Provocation (with its sexy new cover) will find in its new life in mass market.
And how about you? Do you share the books you love to read (or, if you’re a writer, do you share your process) with your near and dear? If you do, what’s that like? Is the collaboration smooth or bumpy?And if you don’t, is there a way that you enjoy the very privacy of the pleasure?
Pam will be giving away a copy of her new mass market re-release of The Slightest Provocation to one lucky person, whose name shall be chosen at random from those who leave a comment here between now and Monday morning.
I do share some of the process with my husband. He likes to write (although he is not as interested in getting published as I am) and he does enjoy picking stories apart so he's very good at that. He doesn't read romance, but he's very open minded about it and understands most of the basic "rules" of the genre.
However, we tried to write something together once and I think we were almost too nice. Our writing styles didn't mesh well and neither of us could force the one style on the other.
Ah well, live and learn.
Posted by: Jill Q. | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 03:46 AM
If there's one plotline I love it's a marriage that needs saving. I will definitely get this book. As to the other question, I'm a better editor than a writer, but I can take criticism when given. I don't share anything I've written until it's finished. Until then, it's mine alone. It's a very private pleasure for just a while until I let it loose on the tender mercies of those I trust.
Posted by: ValerieL. | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 05:52 AM
I would love to share the process, but my husband refuses to take part, unfortunately. I've posted writing up on blogs, shared it with him, and he refuses to read it. he says "that's your world, I don't like romance".
So my process is mine alone, and perhaps when I am (finally) published someday, he will pick up the book and decide he does want to look into my world.
Posted by: Caroline | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:03 AM
Thanks for sharing your thoughts with us today, Pam!
I do not share my writing process. For me, it's a very private thing. How the characters develop just seems to work better in my own head—or maybe I'm just stubborn and want to make my own mistakes. Part of the problem is I find it hard talking out their feelings/intentions because those things happen as I write. Most of the time, I'm not quite sure what they will do until the scene unfolds.
Sometimes I do show a few trusted friends certain sections, to get general feedback, but that's it.
That said, I do find it fascinating to read how others experience the creative process.
Posted by: Cara Elliott/Andrea Penrose | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:03 AM
Fascinating to hear other people's processes.
And those of you who wrote about the ability to take criticism are spot on. That's a crucial element of it, and one I learned during my longtime day job as a computer programmer.
Because when another programmer walks through your work and finds buggy code, you don't say, well that's my voice. You say thank you for finding that before it goes live.
But on the other hand, as Jill wrote, I can certainly understand the temptation to be "too nice." It's definitely a fine line to tread.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:30 AM
Caroline, it's a tough business getting the guys in your life to understand the rules of romance fiction, especially when you're still working them out in specific in the pages of a work in progress. Sometimes there's nothing like a bright, shiny cover and an ISBN to tempt a near and dear one to become a reader. Here's hoping in your case!
And Valerie and Cara, I know what you mean about wanting to keep the characters to yourself for a while too.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that once, long before I was writing romance (during my second Molly Weatherfield erotic novel), there was a little incident of a particularly blunt critical postit Michael put on my draft. He was right, but I still wouldn't speak to him for 3 days. It takes a lot of learning to take criticism from your near and dear.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:42 AM
I like to share the the books I'm reading with friends.
Posted by: peggy | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:04 AM
inviting friends into shared fictional worlds is definitely one of life's pleasures, peggy.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:12 AM
Welcome to Wenchdom, Pam! Such fun to read how you developed your insights for this book--including the "guys won't ask directions" aspect. *g*
I'm lucky that me SO likes to read my works in progress, but he's a reader, not a critic. As long as he doesn't fall asleep while reading, I'm okay. *g*
Posted by: maryjoputney | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:23 AM
Thanks for the welcome, Mary Jo. This is an honor for me. And it can be such fun to share something in manuscript form.
When I was writing my first romance novel, The Bookseller's Daughter, I sent a draft to my son, who at the time was working for a UN-affiliated web site, writing about AIDS in Africa.
And how lovely when he wrote back to say he was using it as an after-work escapist pleasure.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:57 AM
Hi Pam, always fun to read what you have to say about the writing process and I love the AHA moment: They're married!
I share my writing with my critiques group and that's about it. As for what I read, I'll share that with complete strangers in a bookstore or the library...and sometimes in line at Costco. Introvert without the shy gene, that's me.
Posted by: Mary Blayney | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 08:07 AM
Lovely post, Pam. I don't share books with my husband because he only likes books about dead Russians (eg Shostakovich) and/or books with pictures in them. He tried to read one of mine to save face with his mother, who has read them all, but gave up.
My daughter will read my books so long as they're not too explicit (not that she's a prude, far from it, but I am her sainted mother). I gave her an ARC of my next one, JANE AND THE DAMNED, and she emailed me and told me she wanted to go out to dinner to talk about it. Boy, was I scared. She handed the ARC back, with sticky notes in it and a sheet of paper listing things she liked about it and another one with things she didn't like about it. List #1 was longer than list #2.
It was awesome. I wish I'd let her take a look at it before I sent it to my editor. She has a fantastic eye for style and narrative and I'm encouraging her to become a reviewer ... or something.
Posted by: Janet Mullany | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 08:10 AM
I loved this post, Pam. But you always write so beautifully so not a surprise. My first reader (or rather listener) is a girlfriend. I read aloud over wine and she's wonderfully appreciative and uncritical so if she gets bored I know I've hit a rough spot.
I particularly like your account of how discussing and researching a book can drive the narrative.
Posted by: Miranda Neville | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 08:48 AM
Mary, how great to hear from you. I love "introvert without the shy gene." How enviable, and I can see it in you. I imagine my shy gene like a nasty rash all over my DNA (terrible biology -- can you believe I'm thinking about a sci fi book?)
But the wonderful thing about being a bookseller (as I was, for 9 years) is that you get to talk about books to strangers all the time and it's just called doing your job.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 09:43 AM
Such a cool story, Janet, about you and your daughter -- lists and postits and Jane and the Damned (which I have read, folks, in ARC, and really really liked).
Miranda, thanks for the kind words. And you're right -- nothing is a better signal of a rough spot than a glazed look in someone's eye.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 09:47 AM
And THIS is why I don't believe in synopses (for myself, anyway) -- that a-ha moment can happen anywhere, anytime, and leave you dashing sideways away from where you thought you'd be. Lovely post. Just Kindled the book, and can't wait to read it.
Posted by: Rachael Herron | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 09:56 AM
I enjoyed your post Pam, and learning more about you, your writing process, and The Slightest Provocation. I'm definitely going to be picking up this book, because I just love those "remarriage comedies."
Posted by: Barbara Elness | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 10:09 AM
Very apt point about synopses, Rachael. From a writer's pov, I think they're best for reminding you where you want to end up and shoring up confidence in your overriding logic and ability to finish the thing. And a kind of thematic unity, which is actually better expressed by Michael, in an essay called "From Pillow Talk to an Editor's Desk" (because, just as I fessed up to at the RITA ceremony, he's had more than a little to do with writing my synopses).
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 10:26 AM
Glad you enjoyed the comments, Barbara -- I think we're privileged in romance, to be able to see marriage as a process that shed light on other important processes. And I hope you enjoy the book (thanks again to the Wenches for the opportunity to "meet" you).
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 10:38 AM
Oh, LOL on the dreaded synopsis. Pam says it well when she states it's a guide to where you want to end up . . . vaguely, that is.
For me they are painful to produce, and the bare bones usually end up looking very different as I flesh them out. Thank goodness, my editor understands my process, and doesn't press for too many details up front.
Posted by: Cara Elliott/Andrea Penrose | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 10:46 AM
Hmmmm hardly anyone I know really *likes* to read. Or read romance, anyway. My friends and family will sometimes ask me what my secret smile is all about, and its usually because I'm thinking about the book I just put down :-)
I do have one person who will let me ramble on about books until my hearts content, so when I feel the need I know there is at least always one person I can go to :-)
Posted by: Chelsea B. | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 11:59 AM
Since so much of romance depends upon revealing someone's true nature, I think a synopsis might be helpful as a sort of timetable of revelations, or what cat gets let out of what bag when.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 12:31 PM
Oh gosh, Chelsea. What a precious hoard of secret smiles you must have. I'm glad you can post them online where we love to see them and where we know something of what you're feeling.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 12:34 PM
Wonderful post, Pam! I love sharing the books I read with friends and talking about them. I started out writing with my mom, so obviously we shared the plotting and revision process. My dad loved the fact that we laughed a lot, but we also used to go to cafés to go over our revision notes to cut down on the stress :-). Now I have some good writer friends I brainstorm with on occasion. My best friend from college (he's also the voice interviewing me on the video clips on my website) is also great at brainstorming. He helped me choreograph the finale of one of my books while we were walking around Ashland one afternoon.
Posted by: Tracy Grant | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 01:33 PM
I love hearing about you and your mom at work, Tracy, and hope that someday you'll write about what that was like.
And of course in my family, we've been sharing our love of books and stories for decades. I sometimes say of my son that the poor kid never had a chance, except to become a college English professor (who now dazzles me with his knowledge and insight).
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 04:15 PM
I occasionally share books I'm reading, though most family/freinds have slightly (or very) different reading tastes than I do. That's one of the nice things about the internet and blogs like this one -- get to share/discuss with others with simular great ;-D taste.
Posted by: donna ann | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 04:49 PM
I share books frequently. Mostly with our daughter and occasionly with daughter in law who lives much further away.
We all have similar tastes in reading.
Ah, nothing like new author, new book.
Thanks for writing.
Posted by: Louis | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:06 PM
I agree. The internet is great for finding reading soulmates, donna. Have you tried Goodreads?
And Louis, thanks for reading.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 06:11 PM
Hey Miss Pam, congrats on the mass market release!
My hubby's contributions seem to be primarily to come up with titles for my books that have terrible puns in them. But he listens to my ponderings and while I don't think I ever use his suggestions, good stuff has bounced out of them....
Posted by: Leanne Shawler | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:00 PM
Miss Leanne, it's been a while and thanks for the congrats. Great to hear from you and are you sure you wouldn't like to share a pun or two?
And of course good stuff has bounced out of it -- puns freeing up the imagination and the language-making machine.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Friday, June 25, 2010 at 07:36 PM
My husband's a lawyer and was most helpful and encouraging when I wrote murder mysteries and suspense novels. Now I'm writing romance, I'm on my own, lol.
Posted by: Maggi Andersen | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 01:33 AM
Wonderful post, Pam! I love the research you were able to do with you hubby - what a thrill to actually access primary documents like that.
I share my process with my husband - he doesn't get it, lol.
Posted by: robyn | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 05:44 AM
Great to have a lawyer in the family, Maggi, for a mystery and suspense writer. It reminds me of an RWA chapter member of mine, Karin Tabke, who's husband is a cop -- and who generously shares his experience and insights with Karin and other mystery and suspense writers in our chapter.
But robyn's right, lol -- it does help if the guy gets some of what you're doing.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 06:31 AM
If I did have someone to share my love of romance novels with, I wouldn't have as much time to read them, because as my poor husband occasionally discovers to his dismay, I can be quite eloquent--as in going on and on--about my passion for this genre. Instead, I find that I enjoy "reliving" scenes I particularly liked in my head in that quiet time before I drift off to sleep at night, and if I have taken the place of the heroine in my mind, well, all the better.
Posted by: Dee Feagin | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 07:02 AM
@Dee: But your husband only profits from that, no?
(At least that's what I've been told by some of my women readers)
;-)
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 07:59 AM
Hurray for you, Pam. You always write so beautifully.
When you wrote about a nation at war with itself, it seemed to me we have quite a few nations in the same state today. Do humans never learn?
Posted by: JoAnn Smith Ainsworth | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 09:29 AM
Amen to your question about when will we ever learn, JoAnn. I was having similar thoughts (about the contemporary scene) as I wrote this book -- which is why I'm happy it's gotten a new life in mass market paperback.
Oh, and thanks for the kind words too.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 11:24 AM
Aloha, Cara and Pam! Thanks for the fun blog! I read historical romances and frequently ask my AF hubby about the history that may be happening in the book (he's well read on military history).
He occassionally reads my books - he recently became a fan of Word Wench Jo Beverley after reading The Secret Wedding (he enjoyed the cat's escapades).
Hubby encourages me to attend romance events (RT, RomCon, RWA, et al) knowing how much I enjoy being around romance authors. And he keeps his eye on romance happenings in Hawaii - I am spending the summer in Florida, so he sent me a link from the Honolulu paper about summer reading, including Regency romances!
Once he retires from the AF, he may become a professional gopher (and avid golfer) as he accompanies me to the romance events!
Posted by: Kim in Hawaii | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 11:28 AM
After reading your post I'm feeling guilty for my lack of research in comparison. Pam, I love you, but I feel really dumb when I stand next to you :)
I have to read this book.
Posted by: Pamela Fryer | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 12:41 PM
Aloha, Kim. I love the idea of attending National with my own gofer in tow.
And Pam, don't feel guilty. And DO enjoy The Slightest Provocation.
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 01:49 PM
Wonderful comments, everyone!
And a special hi to Kim—thanks for stopping by . . . I still say you have you take up golf so you and your DH can share your passions as you gallivant around the world. He'll come meet romance authors and you'll walk the links in Scotland and Ireland . . .sounds like a plan to me!
Posted by: Cara Elliott/Andrea Penrose | Saturday, June 26, 2010 at 05:15 PM
Hi Pam --
Late signing in here. Loved hearing about your process. And I am so envious of a research vacation in England.
One of the sad truths about early Nineteenth Century spies is that most of the real ones were working at home, spying on their own countrymen.
So unheroic of them.
No need to put me in for the drawing. I have Slightest Provocation on my keeper shelf. (Right next to Carrie's Story, of course. *g*)
Posted by: Joanna Bourne | Sunday, June 27, 2010 at 08:10 AM
So un-intrepid of those slimy domestic spies...
While as for your other comment, Joanna -- a thilled squeal of thanks (as Pam Rosenthal and Molly Weatherfield hug self and other in co-authorly glee)
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Sunday, June 27, 2010 at 11:08 AM
I share my books with my daughter and her mother-in-law regularly. When you enjoy reading you enjoy sharing your books.
I have not read any of your books but adding you as new author and your books to my wish list. So glad you came by to chat so I could be introduced.
Posted by: misskallie2000 | Sunday, June 27, 2010 at 05:41 PM
I am envious of you for your trip through England with your husband. How wonderful that it helped you with your book.
I try to share books with my husband. He doesn't have much time to read, so I have started getting audio books. We may not listen to them together, but we can discuss them. There have been times when I have particularly enjoyed a book that I could not get in audio form that I wanted to share. I have read several books to my husband on long trips. I finished a 4 book series on one particular trip in 2001.
I recommend books to our children and loan them to them. Afterwards it is nice to discuss them,even if our opinions of them differ, which is often the case.
By the way, I loved the original cover of THE SLIGHTEST PROVOCATION.
Posted by: librarypat | Tuesday, June 29, 2010 at 10:21 PM
I love the idea of listening to audiobooks together, librarypat. Perhaps Michael and I can do that.
And yes, I loved the original cover of The Slightest Provocation. But you know what? To look at it, you simply wouldn't know it's a very sexy book. (Also with lots of politics, lol.) Dilemmas of promotion!
Posted by: Pam Rosenthal | Wednesday, June 30, 2010 at 03:22 PM
Feel free to use these--resize them and modify them--for your own stuff, especially if you just want to play around, give it a practice try before investing time and potentially money into a map project. I've included them with transparent backgrounds to make it easy to drop into your map.
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